K-Finding a Place
by InfinitNei
Summary: "Everything I touch falls to misfortune. It's been that way since I was born. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid to take a stand against the hard world around me; knowing that all I have to do is touch someone and they will suffer. I think they call that courage, in some form. But it doesn't make it any easier. The world is still so cold."
1. Knack

**Knack**

* * *

**_April 24th, 2008 8:02 pm_**

_Everything I touch falls to misfortune, and I guess it's been that way since I was born. My mother was the first to suffer. She passed away shortly after I took my first breath. Sometimes, I wish that the nurse had never set me in my father's arms that night because not too long after my birth, he lost his senses somewhere around the bottom of a bottle. _

_Since then, I've lived most of my life with my aunt in Shizume. But after a simple hug from her flesh-and-blood, she found herself struggling to keep her head above water as a flood of bounced cheques and eviction notices threatened to overwhelm her. The last thing she needed was the rotten luck my charm brought as I tip-toed around her halls._

_I turned sixteen a little over two weeks ago, and I haven't been back since. All I can do is pray that there is some way that she can bounce back from our brief encounter. So very few have. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid to take a stand against the hard world around me, knowing that all I have to do is touch someone, and they will suffer. I think they call that courage, in some form. _

_But it doesn't make it any easier. _

_The world is still so cold._

Bloody fingers reached for her skirt, trying their hardest to claw at the fabric in hopes of retaliation, aid, anything. Through wild sapphire eyes, her senses were tunnelling as she stared vacantly forward, her world shrinking, her ears echoing the sounds of the bustling twilight streets nearby. The alleyway seemed to twist, concrete keeling over like wilted roses. She staggered a step back, anchored to reality only by her meek whimpers choked through hastening breaths— one more step, then the weakened collapse of her shaky knees buckling beneath her slim body. With the hollow ringing of a sharp knife slipping from between trembling fingers, her comprehension returned. The world was right again, her ears hearing everyday-sounds like bustling traffic, idle crowd chatter, and her eyes were keenly aware of the blood pooling beneath two unsuspecting victims lying unconscious at her feet.

With her hands flat on the pavement at her back, she shuffled away from the sight. "You saw..." Her tone was airy and mortified as her full azure gaze scoured the passage around her crime. "No," she whispered. "No nononono, you can't..." She rocked on unsteady legs as she climbed to her feet and picked up her blemished blade. Choking on her next breath, she ripped her eyes towards the bustling street, dark auburn waves whispering around her soft features as the sound of sirens started to alert her guilty senses. "What have you done...?"

"King? We've been walking for almost a whole hour, and I haven't heard you say a single word yet." Lean fingers reached out and flicked dusty brown bangs up out of his face, causing him to recoil bashfully between the two men looming like tall bookends on either side of his instigating proclamation. "Hah? Kusanagi-san, what was that for?"

"For sounding so disappointed." Sniggering through the teeth he'd clenched around his cigarette, Izumo cocked a brow towards his pouty friend. But he didn't just sound it. His companion's soft brown eyes visibly saddened by the lack of attention his rambling was receiving. "Besides, Totsuka, you haven't really given either of us a chance to talk. Not that I expect Mikoto to have much to say on the matter." He chuckled wryly to the sound of their king's impatient snort. "See? That sounds about right. Casual indifference."

Tatara surrendered a guilty smile towards Izumo's sound sense. "You know I can't help it," he defended. "Taking on a new hobby always gets me excited. Besides, King has a big appetite, so why not satisfy it with good food?"

"Hard to argue with that logic," Izumo spiritedly agreed. "But, he can't eat a conversation." He hadn't even noticed that Tatara diverted his shamefaced gaze to the side, later raising his attention to an unexpected sight. "And nobody said that it was a bad thing, but if you want to carry on a conversation-" He glanced over his shoulder to finish his statement only to comprehend that Tatara had disappeared from behind their party entirely. His expression dimmed with disjointed impatience as he halted their remaining forces to watch their young colleague dash out of sight. "... you should probably at least stick around for it to play out."

Mikoto paused to the sound of Izumo's discouragement, his lethargic gaze following the sight of their companion darting into the grim passage they'd walked by not a moment prior. "The hell's he doing now?"

"Beats me." Puffing an exasperated sigh, Izumo tipped one set of fingers to dust his brow and began to backtrack towards the break in buildings. "With our luck, he's picked up a stray. Come on. Maybe there's still a chance we can stop him. The last thing I need is a cat clawing up my bar."

Mikoto responded with a low grunt of acknowledgement before passing through a ring of smoke back the way he'd come. The pair made their way to the mouth of the alley, not a spark of intimidation warning them away as they calmly tailed their friend. The hesitation hadn't come until they'd almost tripped over the fleshy masses of two grown men lying limp in the shadows of concrete silhouettes.

The pair immobilized, a hushed and nervous hum sounding from Izumo as he knelt next to the bodies to check their pulses. "Oh, Totsuka, what did you find...?" He rested his forearms on his bent knees for a moment of consideration. "Well, they're still breathing. Can't say whether that's a good thing or not, though." He slowly stretched his legs out beneath him to rise next to his king. There was a deep, analytical crease in his brow as he withdrew his light and tapped the ashes to the ground next to him. "All I can say for certain is that it wasn't our boy who left 'em like this. He just doesn't have it in him."

Mikoto's tone remained even as he tipped his disconcerted expression towards his second. "You think he ran off after whatever did?"

Izumo stepped over the body and continued down the route lined by cheap storefronts that already closed for the evening. "I sure hope not," he admitted vaguely. "These boys are runners. Probably got caught up in some sort of turf war, and that's none of our business." He sighed and clasped his head as he shook it, his fingers combing back his straw-coloured bangs on one side. "Good grief. That kid's all sorts of trouble, isn't he?" He dropped his palm and nodded his head before adjusting his eyes back towards his leader with his suggestion. "Let's go and make sure he doesn't try to make friends with the wrong type."

Catching the irony in his statement, Mikoto had done no more than calmly scoff his entertainment through the slightest of smiles.

The two continued until their path branched off in either direction around a pair of structures. Izumo looked one way through a haze of exhaust steam, and then the other illuminated by a dingy khaki glow of an incandescent lightbulb past its prime. "Great. Choices," he droned impatiently. "Which way do you think he went?" He cocked his head to one side as Mikoto fluidly stepped past him on his way towards the left path like it was on impulse. Then, he shrugged it off and followed. "If the king says we go left, we go left," he sang casually. "You know what they say, right is always wrong if the king says so~"

"Your guess was as good as mine," Mikoto rumbled restlessly. He was too impatient to wait for a decision to follow.

Izumo was ready to quip back at their monotonous king once more when they'd come to rest their gazes on the sight of their missing cohort nearby. "Would you look at that," he drawled. "Guess you were right."

Even if Mikoto knew there was more surprise than respect in his cohort's tone, hearing his dry second admit his success still held a kind of satisfaction. "King's intuition," he rumbled lowly on approach.

Izumo's brow knotted with curiosity as they neared, what sounded like, Tatara's voice attempting to soothe distress, and he couldn't help the rush of air puffing past his lips. "Looks like he's picked something up after all." He groaned his dismayed anticipation. "Man, I hope it's not a cat."

The pair froze once they closed in, standing bewildered in observation of the sight laid out before them. Nearby, a smiling Tatara had clutched a young woman in his arms against the cool pavement, speaking soothingly to her shuddering figure. Her clothes were damaged and stained rusty in spots. By the looks of things, she may have been a victim of the scene they crossed on their way to Tatara's side.

"Well," Mikoto muttered bleakly. "It's not a cat."

"King! You guys found us," Tatara exclaimed happily with an energetic titter. "I'm glad. Sorry for running off like that all of a sudden, but she was really fast."

The pair took another couple of steps, delivering themselves to the midst of the commotion. "Yeah, not a great idea, Totsuka, given the circumstances," Izumo teased, even if he wasn't sure what those were yet. He bent at his hips to observe the pair, his hands still in his pockets as he'd done so. "So, who's your little friend?"

Tatara smiled down at the trembling girl to reassure her that his companions weren't of any threat to her. "This is Tsukiyo Neirah-san. She had a nasty run-in with a couple of persistent types." There was a reassuring song in his voice like the situation wasn't to be taken seriously, which made it both comforting and insulting in the woman's ears.

The crease in Izumo's brow deepened. "Wait, the guys we almost tripped on comin' through here?" Considering the unlikelihood of his friend's ability to cause anything harm, he slipped his gaze over the delicate figure in the boy's arms, carefully examining the blood on her clothing. He tried to keep too much bemusement from leaking onto his face as his hazel gaze flashed disbelief beneath the dull streetlights. "Are you tellin' me this little thing was the one who took them out?"

"Could be a Strain," Mikoto theorized soundly from behind. "If that's the case, the blues probably aren't far behind her."

Tatara gave his head a gentle shake. "She isn't a Strain, King. She's just a normal schoolgirl."

A dull flicker of amusement tickled Izumo's expression. "I hate to break it to you, Totsuka, but normal schoolgirls don't just walk around at night knifing people." Kneeling in front of them with a gentle sigh, he tried his best to keep an open mind while considering the situation at hand. "Well, whatever the case, it's a pleasure. The name's Kusanagi," he drawled upon offering his hand. "I'm sorry you're so shaken up. Must've been a scary thing."

The mousy woman introduced to them as Neirah shifted her gaze towards Izumo's hand before quietly sinking deeper into Tatara's protection. "I apologize for this. It's going to seem terribly rude, but I would prefer not to shake your hand."

Izumo carefully retracted his palm into his lap and gave an easy laugh. "That so? That's mighty honest of you," he sassed. "If it's because you're afraid you'll get blood on it, I can assure you that it wouldn't be the first time."

"Don't say things like that," Tatara scolded playfully. "She's already skittish enough. It took me a bit to get her calmed down."

Neirah peeked towards their company in her peripherals before letting her fleeting gaze retreat. "No, it's just... everything I touch falls to misfortune," she educated grimly. "Your friend startled me with contact, so there's no stopping fate. What's done is done and cannot be helped. For that, I apologize."

"Aren't you just a barrel of laughs?" Izumo teased. "Charmed."

"Do you want to tell us how you managed to knock out a couple of thugs all on your own?" Mikoto interrogated firmly. "That can't be easy for someone your age."

"Or your size," Izumo added.

"Life itself isn't easy for someone my age," she defended under her breath. "But, I'm not helpless." A little braver by the moment, she raised her gentle gaze towards her visitors for another brief examination before diverting it back towards her blood-stained hands. "I panicked when they saw my face. If those men were to report this to the authorities-"

"_That's_ what has you all worked up?" Izumo straightened with a smug smile, unintentionally demeaning the girl's burden. "You honestly think the police would act if two full-grown men came down to the station saying they were beaten up by a young lady in some dark alley? And that's if their pride let them make it that far."

Her eyes locked on his as her expression melted doubtfully. "But, they witnessed my crime."

"Sounds like self-defence to me," Mikoto interjected decisively.

Neirah glanced their way, her bright eyes lingering on the sight of their assurance. "You're... not going to report me to the authorities?"

"Of course not," Izumo reassured her. "They're not dead. Besides, you might not have noticed this, but they're a pretty seedy bunch themselves. I can guarantee you that the police will be the last people they want to get involved." He smiled down at her with concern in his lax expression. "That said, I still don't think it's a good idea for you to go walking through the streets looking like you do."

Neirah flinched when she turned to observe Tatara's kind agreement as he removed his light jacket and swept it around her shoulders. "Here. Wear this, and we'll walk you home."

"Walk me home...?"

"You might've just made enemies with some real bad players," Mikoto added. "And we weren't doin' anything anyway." He turned away in preparation to depart, pausing only momentarily to redirect his sight over his shoulder in beckoning. "Let's go. You can walk, can't you?"

Her eyes watched his confident amber gaze as it remained sure of his statement. She could feel the sentiment welling within her as she tapered her sights on his casual stance and felt the pressure in the stagnant air around them shift. Her lips parted, bobbing vacantly for a moment as his certainty ensnared her. There was no hesitation in his command, no guilt. "Y-you want to help me?"

"Awe, come on," Tatara teased. "We're just doing what's right."

Neirah hadn't taken her eyes off of the mesmeric leer of the crimson-haired man while Tatara fussed behind her, feeding her arms through the sleeves that would be way too long for her. Glancing over her shoulder to escape the power of Mikoto's undaunted stare, she relaxed to the reassuring sight of Tatara's friendly smile. Something about the way the trio interacted had made her feel at ease even after their uncertain introduction. "You genuinely want to help," she stated nervously. "You aren't afraid?" She quietly turned towards Izumo and Mikoto. "Everyone I touch is fated for misfortune."

Neirah's brow began to coil as Izumo chuckled his dismissal, and for the first time since he'd taken a stand before her, Mikoto smiled around the cigarette dipping between his lips as he spoke.

"We choose our own fate," Mikoto rumbled confidently.

Her wide eyes intently focused on his casual statement, and her jaw dropped absently to accommodate the sudden rush of air in her lungs. The dull sage lighting of a bulb desperately clinging to life flickered its final breaths above them, the glow reflecting in her starry eyes. "Your fate... is your own."

An alarmed Tatara fell forward as Neirah dropped her hands in front of her knelt figure to support her body's collapse. She stared widely into the dirty street and battled the need to let the powerful emotions wash over her face beneath a river of grateful tears.

Worry caused Tatara's voice to elevate with alarm when he called to her. "Nei-chan, are you alright?"

"_Nei-chan_?" Izumo pestered. "Didn't take you two long to get acquainted, did it?"

"Yeah, he's good at that," Mikoto proclaimed tediously.

Her wild gaze had begun to soften as her expression warmed with a bashful smile. "You're all... so kind."

Izumo leaned back and dismissed her overwhelmed state indifferently. "Totsuka said it best. We're just doing what's right." He tipped one of his hands out at his side. "Besides, Shizume City is sort of like Mikoto's territory, so we should probably be thanking you."

Neirah turned her confused gaze swiftly towards Tatara in hopes of enlightenment when he'd begun to snicker behind her. "Did you hear that, King? Nei-chan is doing all the work for you. How lazy."

Neirah's gaze swept throughout the passage between Tatara and Izumo's quiet laughter before she finally rested it on the sight of the man who'd done no more than grunt his acknowledgement. "King..."

"Here, let me help you up," Tatara crooned dotingly. "You're sure you aren't hurt?"

Doing a quick pain assessment, Neirah bobbed her head to encourage him. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"You're a tough little thing. I'll give you that," Izumo noted. "What do you say we get you back home to sleep it off?"

"I-"

"You don't have a home, do you?" Izumo and Tatara joined Neirah as the three startled gazes shot towards the casual remark rumbled amongst them. The pressure hadn't cracked his exterior as he closed his eyes and diverted his knowing gaze, picking his cigarette from between his teeth before smothering its remains beneath the toe of his shoe. "King's intuition," he murmured through his faint frown.

Neirah was moments from announcing her bemusement when she heard the sound of unsteady pattering loping through the darkened city channels. Before she could shriek, the bloodied bodies of her victims were standing at the crossroad before her, clutching their leaky wounds. Her mortified expression drained her tan complexion of colour, cobalt saucers wading in a milky sea of terror when they'd turned to connect their gazes.

"There's the little bitch there!"

"Didn't make it very far, did you!?"

_Tsk._ Mikoto's lethargic gaze peeked over his coat collar and narrowed on the sight of the approaching men. His fingers flexed in his jacket pockets as he sighed his impatience and prepared for conflict. "Looks like your friends are up."

"I guess their pride won't let them give up that easily, after all," Izumo stated smoothly. To the sound of an almost devious snigger, he took his king's side with confidence in his posture. After picking his light from between his teeth, he slumped his arm by his side and tapped the loose ash free of the end. "Stay back, little lady. Things might get-"

Izumo flinched in disbelief, blinking a couple of times as Neirah ducked beneath the hand that he'd outstretched in her defence. When alarm overtook his face, he observed her valiant charge as she jetted towards the chaos about to arise. His rebuttal was dry with agitation. "Great. I see you're already rubbing off on her, Totsuka."

Tatara rushed to Izumo's side, pausing flush with him as the pair watched the woman's reckless stampede. "Wait! Tsukiyo-san!"

"Please leave this place!" she called nervously. "I'm sorry to have brought this conflict upon you. I'll distract them while you slip away."

Izumo noticeably flinched with the impact of her assurance. "Is she serious right now?"

"Fucking brat... That's it. Get good and close."

"Just shut up and shoot her already!"

Neirah's startled eyes widened to the sight of the man nearest to her drawing a firearm that she hadn't known he'd possessed, and her entire world went silent save for what she would claim was the sound of him pulling the pistol's trigger.

It was hard for her to know what had come first, the sound of the gunshot splitting her foggy comprehension or her collapsing centre of gravity the moment Mikoto's hand was wrapped firmly around her arm. She didn't take her sights off of the approaching bullet as she toppled to the hard pavement on her fleshy backside, panic-stricken to the realization that someone else had touched her. Her gaze had become impossibly fuller to the sound of the second and third shots following the marksman's certainty.

_Everything I touch falls to misfortune._

"We choose our own fate."

Neirah's scream was shrill as she battled the need to cover her ears. All it had taken was a single touch, and the man before her would take three bullets in her place. She tried to regain her balance, her footing, scrambling to make it to her feet and defend against her folly. She would have given anything to spare the kind trio her taint. But before her fingers could connect with Mikoto's leg to urge his retreat, the world before her touch ignited, and the heat of his body cautioned her backwards. She yelped, retracting her wounded fingers as quickly as they had neared, and in the next inconceivable moment, Tatara's arms were back around her as he dragged her towards safety.

The heat was intense, the raging firelight reflecting in the glassy surface of her trembling gaze as she watched her defence unfold. The man before her was on fire. She could hear the sounds of her enemies clamouring in terror to the sight of their bullets liquefying before they had the chance to make contact, but her thoughts were so hollow that she couldn't focus on the dialogue. The man before her was burning, and grinning like the altercation was somehow enjoyable.

Mikoto's smile broadened with satisfaction as his opponents changed their tune. "Did nobody teach you not to play with fire?"

The deep rumble of his roughened voice caused a shiver to chase her spine, but it wasn't fear, or fascination, exactly. The feelings that warped Neirah's face with mystified hesitancy were far more complicated than anything she had ever experienced. They transcended the fate that had guided her for the past decade, and she watched in amazement as flames seared the paper walls keeping her isolated in her sheltered world, the crackling embers popping like celebratory confetti as they fluttered across the dark canvas of night.

As the heatwave subsided, she heard the harmonious ringing of steel, a sound she'd been particularly familiar with, and she turned her attention to Izumo. She watched with amazement as he cracked the top off his lighter only to snap it shut again, not once, but twice.

"One of them's getting away," he casually droned.

Neirah tightened her grip on Tatara's shirt as Izumo flipped open his lighter decisively and sparked its ignition. Nothing about that action seemed abnormal until the dancing sparks swelled and launched down the alleyway towards the fleeing lackey by his extended forefinger's command.

"Sayonara." Izumo's words were casual as he popped his finger back like he was pegging balloons at a carnival, not searing human beings with fireballs.

Surprisingly enough, the howls of agony to sound in the night hadn't been half as unnerving to her as the sight of two scorching men lingering in her view as calm and collected as they had been upon introductions.

Catching the sound of Tatara's gentle titter, she quietly turned her horrified expression towards the reassuring comfort of his kind brown eyes. All he did was giggle in response like she hadn't just witnessed something straight out of this world. "It's okay. They can't hurt you now."

The colour in her face drained in a wash of disbelief. She focused on Tatara intently, not sure whether to take his comforting announcement seriously or not. A part of her had wondered which set of men couldn't harm her because as the night progressed, she'd begun to worry more about her unlikely saviours than her enemies.

Tatara smiled fondly and turned his attention towards where Mikoto unhurriedly set to face their company. Fascination had overtaken the woman's face, and he could see her interest in the lustre of her eyes. He carefully observed the girl, noticing that she had stopped trembling as she clutched his clansman for support. Such was Tatara's gift, he supposed.

"Now you've done it, King," Tatara teased. "You scared Nei-chan."

Her gaze locked with Mikoto's, and even if he'd cooled, she'd swear that her scarred senses could still see the fire burning in his ferocious golden gaze. She clutched the singed fingers of her wounded hand against her right breast, her gaze entranced with the sight before her as she replayed the scene in her head.

_Your fate was your own._

She hadn't broken eye contact with the beast before her as her soft lips parted to speak. Her whisper was meek and airy as she gently rubbed her aching fingers, wonder replacing horror the longer the calm king returned her stare. "Totsuka-san..."

"Hmn? What is it? You aren't hurt, are you?"

_What… is a 'king'?_

* * *

Izumo turned his attention to where Tatara joined him, and he watched the boy take a seat in front of his rosewood bar while he sorted through the liquor on display behind it. "Any luck?" he murmured lowly. His thirty-minute smoke break that evening certainly hadn't expected to return with a permanent fixture. "It's about time for me to close the place up for the night. Has she got somewhere to go?"

Tatara smiled and gently shook his head. "Not really. And I think I'm finally starting to understand what you and King must feel like when I start to ramble." He turned to oversee the pacing girl's course as she explained to her classmate that she'd gotten caught up and couldn't make it to her place for the night. "It was just like he said. She doesn't seem to have any particular place to call home. She just started high school."

"That's something, at least," Izumo conceded. "Poor thing. She's even younger than I thought."

Tatara redirected his eager beam. "But that's it," he admitted lightly. "All she's done since we got back is ask questions about you and King."

Izumo closed his eyes and laid his palms flat against the oiled counter. "As long as she's not clawing up my bar, I'm happy."

Tatara offered his friend a sunny smile, his light brown bangs bouncing over his brow as he cocked his head. "Hey, now, she's more like a lion than a kitten. Don't you think? She did take on those drug runners all on her own."

"Lions still have claws," he defended keenly. "Have you not learned anything hanging around Mikoto all these years?"

The sudden ceasing of movement in his peripherals encouraged Tatara to observe the young woman as she quietly disengaged her mobile. "She's really taken by him," he reasoned softly. "And we can't just turn her away when she has no place to go."

Izumo narrowed his gaze on his clanmate suspiciously. "That's dangerous thinking, Totsuka," he cautioned. "This isn't a charity service, y' know. And I can personally guarantee you that Mikoto won't have anything supportive to offer."

Tatara glanced over his shoulder with a quizzical look on his face. "I can't imagine why not. We know she isn't helpless."

"That doesn't matter," he asserted firmly. "We still don't know what makes or breaks Mikoto's test. You saw what happened the other day. Two of those boys lit up without any rhyme or reason. One of 'em barely survived." He turned his concerned gaze back towards his youthful friend. "How do you think he'd feel if he vaporized a sixteen-year-old girl with a bright future and her whole life ahead of her?"

"That's King for you! Living proof that chivalry is still alive and well," he laughed gleefully.

The pair joined in turning to face the sight of Neirah taking a solemn seat on a couch across the bar, the wheels in her mind noticeably turning as she absorbed a skewed reality. "I think it has less to do with chivalry and more to do with what kind of mark that would put on his conscience," Izumo noted under his breath. "Once she settles down, we'll put her right back where we found her. How ever she's been getting along all this time seems to be working for her."

Tatara's expression faded dismally around his soft smile. "I know... I just can't help but see a little bit of me in her, you know? I looked up to King for so long, and it made me so happy when we became his first clansmen."

"Totsuka-"

Tatara whirled to face the bartender eagerly. "Will you talk to him?" he begged. "At least about keeping an eye on her. We can't just throw her out onto the streets now that she's made enemies underground."

"I thought you just said she isn't a cat," Izumo defended. "We don't have any right to decide her fate for her."

"But fate has been so hard on her," he passionately refuted. "You heard her tonight. She feels like she's the reason everyone around her suffers. That must make it next to impossible for anyone to get close to her."

"Yeah, anyone but you, apparently." To the pressure of Tatara's pleading gaze, Izumo's confidence cracked, causing him to lean back and thrust his hands on his hips. "Shit, I'm starting to wish that she _was_ a cat. It would be easier to buff scratches out of my bar than to try to convince you otherwise."

Tatara chuckled eagerly. "So, you'll talk to him?"

"Do I have a choice?"

His smile broadened. "I'm so glad," he hummed delightedly. "While you do that, I think I'm going to ask if she wants to stay with me."

"You what?"

"It's not much, but, even if King doesn't allow it, I don't want to turn her away," he reasoned kindly. "I want to know so much more about her, but her guard is pretty high. I feel like she has so much to tell us."

Izumo's tone instantly flattened. "You can't be serious..."

"Can you say you're not curious?" Tatara spiritedly tormented. "She seems timid at first, but deep down, I know she's really brave. She took a stand against those men tonight for us without batting an eye. I want to know what was happening in her head when she decided to protect us instead of running." He redirected his pleading gaze back towards Izumo. "She told me that she wants to return King's kindness. She says that she feels like she can help him."

Izumo cocked a brow doubtfully. "Help him with what, exactly?"

Tatara shrugged his shoulders friskily and climbed to his feet. "Curious, no? It might be nice to know these things."

Izumo heaved an exhausted sigh as he watched Tatara cross the bar towards the solitary woman. "That kid just doesn't know when to quit," he murmured dimly. "I hate to say it, but Mikoto's gonna break their little hearts."

* * *

Crushing dreams wasn't his real objective as Mikoto stared at the young lady before him with a dull lustre in his gaze. Unfortunately, there was no kinder way for him to express his complete and utter rejection. "No."

Neirah visibly recoiled as she remained fixed in his near-lethal stare, her cheeks igniting with embarrassment for his absolute refusal.

"No?" Tatara whined. "Kusanagi-san, you said you'd talk to him."

"I did." Izumo's defence was rumbled evenly from where he stood with his arms folded over his chest, his hips propped against the doorframe on the opposing side of the room. "These are your results."

Tatara's gaze dismally shifted towards his feet. Noticing the lack of reaction from the woman in front of them, he silently raised his attention towards her lean figure. For once, he'd been at a complete loss for words.

"Is it because of my curse?"

Curious, Mikoto shifted his lethargic gaze towards the sight of the woman's confidence from where he'd lit himself a new cigarette. _Huh?_

"Terrible things happen to anyone I keep close to me. My friends... my family, they all suffered because of me." She finally lowered her head, her heart weighing heavily in her chest. "All of them... except you."

Tatara smiled at her fondly to mark his encouragement.

"You choose your own fate. That's what you said to me. I watched you take it in your hands and shape it impossibly in your favour." Her voice lowered with her lack of confidence, her cheeks dark in colour as she considered her unusual circumstance. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have challenged your rule," she admitted meekly. "But to someone whose life has been written by the misfortune of others..." She ground her teeth to battle her welling sentiment, her hands fisting in the damaged skirt of her high school uniform as she uttered her nearly inaudible apology in a faint whisper. "I'm sorry."

"If you're worried about the thugs that we took out today, don't," Izumo assured her tenderly. "They've been on HOMRA's radar for a while. It's not that I want you to feel like bait, but if they move now, they'll put themselves out in the open."

Neirah turned her weak smile towards his kindness with a bashful gleam in her eyes. "I suppose I would look like a damsel to the rest of you, wouldn't I?" Her vague implications forced Izumo to embrace Tatara's interest in the woman's circumstance. "Fair is fair. If this is all I can do to repay you, I will gladly wear the mark."

"Now, now," Tatara chirped anxiously. "Nobody's suggesting you go looking for trouble."

"Weren't you listening?" she chided fondly. "Trouble finds me and everyone I hold dear. I don't need to search for anything."

The trio watched quietly as the defeated woman slunk through the room and down the stairs. Izumo laid one hand against his nape with a weary sigh. "There she goes," he announced uneasily. "What a strange kid. Kinda makes you wonder what she's not tellin' us."

"It's actually not that hard to figure out."

Mikoto cocked his enquiring gaze to one side as Tatara turned to face them with a bright smile clouded by sadness.

"The only thing she has to search for is somewhere to belong."

* * *

Lips parting for a steady breath had greatly underestimated the depth of the sigh to steal her airway as her toes lightly touched the water's rippling surface. The tap stopped flooding the basin at her feet, but the humid steam of a near-boiling bath lingered in her airway as her toes slowly pierced her crystalline reflection. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd stepped foot in a bath. Ten-minute showers were her norm by habit, but after the evening she had experienced, the comfort was welcome.

Her arms were quick to cover her weighty naked bust the moment she heard the doorknob separate from the jamb, her nervous gaze darting over her shoulder to assess the intrusion. She'd been relieved the moment that she watched the door jar on her dismissed clothing only a few inches from where it had sat closed and was even less alarmed when she noticed a hand slide through the gap with a pale coloured towel.

"Nei-chan, I brought you a-" Tatara's kind proclamation was interrupted the moment he raised his gaze, catching the sight of his guest's rear unclothed curves in the bathroom mirror. His gaze tapered sadly as she self-consciously stroked her shoulders over the peppering of bruises and minor lacerations. The steam blurred the sight in the room, but he could tell her tan skin discoloured beneath loose auburn tresses.

He surrendered his prying and released the towel just inside the doorway. "I've brought you a fresh towel," he gently concluded. "I'll just leave it inside the door."

Neirah sank into the waters up to her chin, burying as much skin beneath the warming soak temperatures as she could. Meanwhile, her fleeting gaze skirted the surface quietly until the sound of him conceding her silence and closing the door behind him attracted her attention. "Totsuka-san?"

Tatara swept the door open just a crack and vacantly stared into the room opposing the bathroom with a smile on his face. "You don't need to sound so distant," he teased lightly. "Totsuka is just fine. Or Tatara, if you prefer."

"Tatara..." she mused outwardly. "I'm sorry. This night has been a little strange. I don't usually go home with unfamiliar men out of the blue like this." Her tone lowered until he had barely received her final transmission. "I'm still figuring things out."

"There's no need for you to be uncomfortable around me. I don't want you to feel that way at all." He took a seat on the other side of the doorway with his shoulders against the wall. Tipping his head back, his smile filled with whimsy. "I get the feeling that you usually like to distance yourself from everyone you meet, but I don't want you to be distant with me if I can help it."

Neirah slowly rotated in her bath, breaking the calm tide of auburn coloured waves as she scooted towards the side of the enamel. She peeked curiously over the edge towards the door where the steam of her bath flowed through the narrow crack, comforted by his reassuring presence.

Tatara turned over his shoulder to face the parted doorway, hoping she could still hear him clearly. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling," he admitted sheepishly. "You wanted to ask me something?"

She let dark lashes fall heavy over her tender cobalt eyes as she stared into the sight of her bloody school uniform left where she'd discarded it on the floor. "I wanted to ask you if you know why your king refused my request." She let her gaze scour the unfamiliar sights of the room around her. "Does he not believe I'm capable of offering him service in exchange?"

Tatara openly laughed. "I don't think that's it at all," he sang spiritedly. "Try not to think about it too seriously, Nei-chan. He and Kusanagi-san were quite surprised that you managed to defend yourself against those thugs."

Neirah adjusted in the bath once more, relieving in a heat capable of relaxing strained muscles. "I have a capable defence," she nearly whispered.

"And you want to protect King, is that it?"

Her cheeks coloured over the steamy bath as she whimpered her soft surrender. "You were all so kind. I feel indebted to you for what you did for me tonight. And when you explained everything earlier..." She twisted, the water disturbing around her athletic haunches as she rested her forearms on the tub ledge. Laying her head in her hands, she turned and looked into the wall decor absently. "I wanted to repay that kindness. Even if I'm powerless, I know I can be of help."

Tatara's bangs bobbed lightly against his brow, the piercing on his left scapha catching the lighting of his accommodations. His face twisted with disdain, but his small smile had refused to fade. "You feel it too, don't you? All it took was one night."

Neirah diverted her gaze with her troubled thoughts, her arms retracting to clasp her knees to her chest. "Is this... how you felt when you first met him?"

"A little nervous, a little excited-"

"Like everything is somehow going to be okay..."

Tenderness filled his expression as he turned to smile his understanding towards the doorway. "You mean hope?"

"Yes." Her near-whisper grew muffled as she tipped her brow against her knees. "Hope that one day, I'll break free of fate and live the life I choose."

The silence dragged out between the pair separated by the thin partition, both plagued by their lingering suspicions. Finally, Tatara expressed his uncertainty. "You know, if you need to tell us something, we'll be here to listen, even if King has his doubts."

Neirah's eyes tightly sealed as she continued to soak away the aches of her battle-fatigued body. "Thank you..."

"Did you want me to take your uniform down to the laundry?" he quietly offered. "If I go now, it might be done in time for you to get out of the bath. It's a weekday, so I'm assuming you'll need it for school tomorrow morning."

"It's alright," she docilely diverted. "I have a spare in my bag-" Her gaze widened as she sprang to life and shot her attention towards the near-empty room, disturbing the calm waters in the process. "My bag. I- I don't remember bringing it with me."

Tatara tilted his gaze to one side. "Hm, I don't recall seeing you with any bag," he admitted vaguely. "Maybe you left it at Kusanagi-san's bar?" He climbed to his feet with a fond smile. "How about this, I'll grab you some clothes so you can relax for a bit while I go back and pick it up. I'm sure I can dig up something that will fit you."

Neirah's face flushed as she pouted her humiliated defiance. "Tatara, I couldn't wear your clothes..."

"Ah, baby steps," he sang delightedly. "It's fine, really. I want to help." He bopped his temple against the wall, his gentle gaze watching the street light up outside his window as he spoke against the doorframe. "Did you want me to close the door before I leave?"

Neirah gently shook her head, and then realizing that she still hadn't successfully conveyed her response, she spoke. "No, that's alright. I can feel a little claustrophobic sometimes."

Satisfied that he'd finally managed to learn something about her, he laughed overtly in triumphant retort. "I don't know how when the world is so big, but I won't be long anyway. Then I'll come right back and make us something to eat."

A faint smile inched across the timid woman's face as she warmed to his enthusiastic optimism. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble. I really can't imagine the thought of just leaving my bag somewhere like that. It makes me nervous."

"It's fine," he reiterated spiritedly. "It'll all work out, you'll see."


	2. Knighted

**Knighted**

* * *

**April 25th, 2008**

"I would like you all to turn to page three-forty-six in your textbooks for review of today's chapter. As for your homework, I'd like the first student in each row to take one and pass it back. I'll give you a moment to review the assignment, and then I'd like you all to prepare your notes on last Monday's lecture."

A cold vacancy seemed to pass straight through Neirah's teacher from beneath her shaggy auburn bangs. She still smelled like cedarwood, an unusual scent for her to carry in place of the cherry fragrance lost with her belongings the night prior. Somewhere beneath the waning moon past, the flighty girl had misplaced her bag within the city. Instead of reviewing the sheet placed in her hands, she considered the risks of attempting to retrieve what was lost. Unfortunately, that meant returning to the scene of her crime, something she was reluctant to do even if suspicions would be far from interested in an innocent young woman.

'_It doesn't seem wise to return to that place after what happened last night_,' she thought despondently. '_If those men didn't survive, the authorities may have the area cordoned off already and expressing interest in evidence left at the crime scene could be condemning_.' She tipped her gaze over her shoulder and glanced out the window at the dreary, overcast sky threatening spring rain. It aptly suited her mood. '_However, if they find a way to identify me in that bag, it would be equally as unwise to leave it in their hands. At the very least, my uniform would lead them back to the school, and that might put them... just close enough..._'

Vexation made her face twist. From where her palm cradled her chin, her breathing hissed through flared nostrils. '_Then there's a third option; that those two survived their burns_,' she mused dourly. Outside of her buzzing class' consideration, her expression dimmed intensely. '_But if that's the case, things might have just gotten a whole lot harder for me from here on out_.' She closed her eyes tightly to screw her brows into the crook of her nose. '_How could I have been so careless?_'

Some of the stains hadn't quite come out of her uniform's arms, so until she retrieved a fresh one, the thoughtful Tatara had leant her a cover-up to keep speculation to a minimum. Her once grave expression lightened when soft fingertips made contact with contents that hadn't belonged to her. She'd been absently sifting through the deep pockets of her borrowed overshirt when her fingers came to rest on a folded piece of paper. Being the nosy sort, she unfolded it to take a peek at the inscription.

_Have a great day at school, Nei-chan! _

_-Tatara_

Neirah quickly threw her hand against her face to stifle the smile that snapped unexpectedly into view like the elasticity had memorized the effort. She played off her delighted snigger as a throat-clearing cough, so she didn't startle her classmates. She didn't often smile, much less for no reason, and she feared that if she started, they'd believe that she'd finally lost her wits. As if that was a far stretch.

She kept her fingers against her lips as her cheeks coloured pink, and she quietly returned the note to her pocket. A piece of her wanted to believe it had all been a dream. Humans with otherworldly powers, aggressive gang members, a touch that wilts hope; they all seemed like things that an ordinary high school student shouldn't have to be concerned about on their Friday afternoon.

Neirah's breathing hitched as her mobile started to buzz in her pocket, and the colour drained from her once-rosy cheeks. She watched the fabric of her borrowed overshirt rattle ominously for a long moment before her mad dash to retrieve it caused her school books to clatter onto the floor.

But she wasn't an ordinary high school student.

A young lady seated by Neirah turned towards the sight of her classmate scrambling to withdraw her communication device from her pocket. "Tsukiyo? Is that your PDA?" She should have known better than to have it active during classes.

On the opposing side of her, a quiet lad was quick to add his concern. "Is it your mom again? I hope she's okay."

"Tsukiyo, what is the meaning of this?"

Prying eyes had fallen on Neirah by the time she'd climbed out of her seat and directed her attention towards her agitated professor. After a brief peripheral examination, she dropped her head in apology and concealed the illuminated screen. "I'm sorry. I have to take this," she rushed out nervously. "Family emergency."

The man standing at the head of the class rumbled a low and unamused growl as she rushed out of the room. "As usual," he grumbled. "But wait until my summon to return. We don't need any further interruptions."

"Yes sir," she rushed with a fretful bow. The class had fallen eerily silent as she made her rushed exit, her palm sweating around her phone as she all but threw herself through the door exiting her course. She was strange, and she knew that was how they saw her. She was secretive, mysterious and unapproachable at best, but it was only in their best interest. Everything she touched fell to misfortune. It wasn't fair to bring their innocent lives into the mess she'd made of her own.

For a moment, she let the phone continue to alert her to an incoming call while she caught her breath since there was no hope of it reaching voicemail. That wasn't unusual. Every time the call came, she felt another piece of her heart frost, and her smile began to fade until the startled chuckle from earlier seemed foreign. Finally, she turned up the screen, flashing an unknown caller ID before her finger swiped left to accept the invitation.

She didn't speak as she slowly raised the phone to her ear and stared down the empty hallway. The sound of gruff breathing flooded her senses as the caller waited the usual fifteen seconds before speaking.

"I have a job for you."

Her throat worked as she rubbed chills from her shoulder with her free hand. No matter how many times she heard the summon, it was never easy. A piece of her wanted to believe it was a dream, but the sharp claw of reality had gripped her so tightly that she couldn't scream for a help that wouldn't come.

_You know, if you need to tell us something, we'll be here to listen._

From within her constricted windpipe, her sharp gasp was interrupted by the continuation of her one-sided conversation. "I'm forwarding you target information as we speak," the rough voice continued. "These guys have caused all sorts of trouble for our smaller operations, and just last night, they took out two of our men for no good reason. Get rid of them. Compensation will be transferred once I get confirmation that they're good and dead."

Dead. It wasn't very often that the command Neirah received was so absolute, and she'd barely gotten the blood of her previous kill to wash from her hands. To hear her employer speak so callously about the lives of her next marks, they must have been problematic. Upon examining his forwarded particulars, her vacant gaze widened until she thought she'd lose her eyes from her sockets. Unexpectedly, her vision had come to rest on grainy images of her proposed targets enjoying their extraordinary, carefree lives. Even if she wanted to speak, that claw clenched her wheezing esophagus, choking defiance from within her alongside her freedom.

The moment the call had ended with her employer, the phone slipped from her hand. Her ears couldn't comprehend the sound of it rattling against the tile by her feet, and the weight of the pleasant note in her pocket dragged her limp body down to the floor with it.

_The world is so cold._

After knocking and obediently awaiting her summon, Neirah shuffled through the amphitheatre and climbed the stairs to her seat, but not before offering her professor a series of apologetic bows. She could understand his frustrations. To her peers, she was chasing excuses, detached from her studies and seemingly lost in another world entirely.

Hopelessness. It washed over Neirah in torrential waves, abrading the stony woman's surface and knocking her balanced feet from beneath. She'd always considered proper education necessary, but as her circumstances spiralled out of control, she was stripped of the freedom to appreciate the hopes and dreams of her past. She belonged to the Raikōjū Ka now, a dangerous and reputable street gang associated with the Yakuza. She absently flipped through pages, unable to comprehend the characters on the sheet as her vacant mind rejected the reality where she was a schoolgirl.

It split her down the middle, the daily grind of adolescence and the dangerous path walked by an assassin. Assassin; a murderer of an important person in a surprise attack for political or religious reasons. Although she couldn't say whether or not the people that she set against were important, or for what purpose they found themselves named a target, she did understand one thing. She was a murderer, and the lives added to the top of her list that morning did not deserve such a fate. But fate was cruel, particularly hers, and she quietly apologized to the heroes of her past as she lost the freedom to appreciate their warmth.

Her worlds seemed to be merging as time passed, no matter how desperately she fought to keep them detached. But as she gently reclaimed the note from her pocket to observe, she began to consider the third option. A third world, more specifically.

_This one, that is._

On the other end of the line, a seedy man had disconnected one of many disposable mobile communications lines, tossing it over his shoulder indifferently. Nearby, another sharing the conference peeked through the cloud of cigar smoke to ascertain the sincerity of response given to his inquiry.

"Are you sure it's alright for us to get involved with them?" His tone lowered with skepticism as he crossed in front of his superior. "We're in a good place right now, and the Red Monster has proven to be merciless. As soon as they catch on that she's workin' for us-"

In his lap, the self-assured leader of the aforementioned organization had flipped through the belongings contained in a small packsack, tossing aside school notes to get at the articles of feminine clothing beneath. "Relax. She isn't one of ours anymore," he rumbled in a casual proclamation. With a devilish smirk, the man picked the cigar from between his teeth and tapped the ashes onto the bright school blouse. "And by the time she realizes that I'm sure the little idiot will have managed to take out at least a couple of them for us."

* * *

The rain had finally begun to fall just short of eleven o'clock that night as she overlooked the soft amber glow of lights illuminating the notorious bar HOMRA from across the street. When she first laid eyes on the classy wooden construct of the storefront settled on the corner, she had one thought; warm. But she couldn't feel it. Across the quiet street, the wind tore down the tunnel between structures, piercing her relentlessly to remind her that what she faced was the calm before the storm.

Even as she watched people come and go to dodge the rainfall, she knew she was alone, but the buildings around her seemed to loom forebodingly overhead while they mocked the dry irony of her situation. If she hadn't still clutched desperately to her last shreds of sanity, she might have found it amusing that, once again, everything she touched would fall to misfortune by her own hands. A fleeting, sardonic smirk flashed briefly on her void expression before vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. Such was fate.

She closed her eyes, trying to gain the nerve she needed to step out from within the shadows. But the shadows were comfortable, and they were easy. When she was in the dark, she didn't have to face her fears, and likewise, her victims didn't have to face a monster baring its teeth. The force she supported could handle the details at face-value. It was the only way to manage the guilt of her actions and wash the blood from trembling fingers. Call it courage if you will.

Peeking the delighted exit of what she could only assume were customers of the establishment, she only ended up whirling away and slinking deeper into her cover instead. The order to take the lives of supernatural beings had never come to her before. The few times she had been called into service, she had accomplished her tasks with relative ease, but this time, her targets were sharper, sturdier, and many times more dangerous than anything she'd ever faced. She was only human, after all. Hating to admit the truth was something she was good at, but reality's chokehold on her was urging her to think soundly. Smiling faces and kind touches played in her mind to warm her sulky spirits, but it wasn't the least bit helpful in the cold rain.

Tears started to leak from her eyes with the rainwater as she accepted that the only way she would get close enough to complete her assignment would be to lie. She would abuse their kindness and use the night prior as an invitation to deliver their sentences. Without the element of surprise, she'd leave herself undoubtedly doomed to suffer a similar fate to the men they'd sheltered her from previously.

She clutched the shoulder bag she carried tight to her hip in an attempt to harden herself to the task at hand. Unfortunately, kindness was weighing her steps as she thought about the uplifting note she found hidden in her borrowed pocket that day. Young and foolish, she never stopped to think about the repercussions of her actions the day she made her deal with the devil. Doing wrong with the best of intensions was still wrong, and eventually, she knew it would catch up to her. Karma had worked faster than she'd anticipated.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered meekly. Another slight squeak choked from within her as she rubbed her face to banish her nervous tears. "Tatara..."

"You sure are sorry for an awful lot. I can't imagine why, though."

If the cold hand of reality hadn't kept her so firmly rooted, she would have screamed her alarm when she spun to face the sight of Tatara smiling back at her fondly. She was frozen in place, grasping that the first of her targets had just separated himself from alerting the others to her presence should she strike. Considering how worried she'd been about challenging their like, she'd been sorely disappointed in him. He seemed to have a nasty habit of rushing into dangerous situations without the slightest deliberation.

"I- what I'm sorry for..." Neirah quietly slipped her hands into her bag and showed him that she had been carrying his clothing within it. "Your shirt, I... I tore it earlier today on my shoe locker," she fibbed half-heartedly.

Tatara hadn't seemed concerned in the slightest. "That's nothing to look so gloomy about," he teased spiritedly. "I actually dabbled in sewing for a while before, so I'm pretty sure I can fix it."

"No, that's not... You shouldn't have to," she argued defensively. "Everything I touch falls to ruin."

"Come on, Nei-chan," he calmly reassured her. "It'll all work out somehow."

"No!" She sealed her eyes tight to avoid the sight of his bewilderment. "No, it won't! Why did you touch me!? Why did you chase after me last night into that alleyway even though you knew I was dangerous!? Do you not have a shred of common-sense?!"

He raised his finger to his face to give his smile a nervous itch beneath the light deluge. "Wow, all this for a ripped shirt? I don't know if it's common or not, but helping someone in need seemed to make a lot of sense to me."

A gentle peep accompanied the tears to fall from her face as she suffocated beneath the hand fate had dealt her. "Make it stop," she whispered miserably. She reached up and tugged at her shirt to loosen a collar that hadn't been tight in the first place. "Why does everyone around me have to suffer for me to move forward?"

Tatara's slight smile began to fade as he considered her words and who she was addressing with them. "This isn't just about a ripped shirt anymore... is it?"

"It's choking me," she breathed docilely. "I want to pry it off, but its hold is too tight. It's pulling me in, and I'm helpless to stop it."

_You know, if you need to tell us something, we'll be here to listen._

"Please help me..."

_It made sense in the beginning. I possessed a skill that others would pay handsomely for, and who would suspect that an ordinary schoolgirl could be capable of a thing like murder? It was evident that I couldn't hold a part-time job and keep my grades up all while trying to live out of the homes of my peers. My alternative saw me work one night a month or less, and the profit made from that single night left me with finances to spare._

_Anything extra went to my aunt in an attempt to clean up the mess I'd left behind. But in the end, she only thought she was losing her mind because she'd started to find lost money all over her house. Now she's seeking psychiatric treatment for a condition she doesn't have._

"I'm so sick of destroying..." Her tears fell steadily to the ground as she snivelled in the cold drizzle. "Everything... everything I touch..."

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

She slowly tipped her agonized grimace his way, trying her hardest to stifle her immodest fussing as she watched him hold out his hand.

Tatara smiled back at her warmly, reaching to her with an open heart at the tips of his fingers. "Come on, let's go inside and get you dried off. Then we can talk about whatever has you so upset, okay?"

She diverted her guilty gaze. "I can't," she whispered. "I- you see..."

"What's all the fuss about?"

Neirah's alarmed expression darted to where Izumo approached with Mikoto and another young man in tow. Suddenly, her anxiety peaked, and her peripherals began to scan for escape as the alleyway closed in around them.

"Ah, it's you again. Tsukiyo-san, no?" Izumo drew close in the rain in front of the pair with a pleasant drawl. "We heard raised voices and thought there might be trouble. Turns out, it was you two out here makin' a ruckus."

"So, nothing _but_ trouble," Mikoto teased dryly.

Izumo sniggered deviously in agreement. "Exactly."

"Oi, Kusanagi-san, is this the chick you were talkin' about earlier?" A blonde of thicker construct stepped forward by Izumo's side with his disbelieving finger wagging in Neirah's general direction. She had to admit that his tracksuit made her envious as her scratchy wet denim clung to her raw thighs. "That's what took out those guys you were keepin' tabs on?"

"So it is." With a heaven-bound gaze, Izumo heaved a hearty sigh as he held his flattened palm out into the rain. "I'd love to stay and chat, but could we maybe postpone introductions until we're somewhere dry?" he murmured dimly. "We came lookin' for trouble, but there's no trouble to be had, so let's just- eh?" He turned to where Mikoto had quietly rested his palm on his shoulder. He opened his mouth like he prepared to contest the interjection when he caught a defensive flash in the gaze of their king. The only time the man ever seemed to be fully aware was when there was danger afoot.

Mikoto's lethal gaze sharpened as he discreetly scanned the passage through his peripherals, careful not to attract attention. "Take the girl and go."

Neirah's eyes widened as she stared past them down the narrowing tunnel of buildings, and her heart iced over in her chest when she watched her previously missing backpack strike the ground at Mikoto's feet.

"That's a good girl," a distorted figure crooned from the shadows. "Even if you're shit at following orders, you made the perfect bait."

At the mouth of the alley, untimely visitors blocked her view of the welcoming bar lighting, and from above, her attention darted around armed rooftops. "No... but I-"

"I was hoping you would have at least made an attempt on their king," the leader crooned cleverly. "You even had the weakest of 'em standing right in front of you in a secluded place. Are you tellin' me that even that was too much?" He scoffed. "Some hunter you are." His hard facial features illuminated as he tipped his burning lighter to his face, igniting the fat tip of a cigar. "Typical fucking woman. You're an emotional wreck, and quite frankly, I'm disappointed. You showed so much potential in the beginning."

"Does that answer your question, Totsuka?" Izumo casually hummed. "Your little friend here seems to be working with the Yakuza."

"She _was_," the sour man refuted. "Until the little skank went and knifed my own boys. Between the lot of you, I've had a lot of costly setbacks in business."

"Well, ain't that a damn shame," Mikoto murmured deprecatingly. "You sent an awful lot of guns out here for just one brat."

"How modest of you," the rough man chortled briskly. "Half o' these guns are for you, Suoh Mikoto and company. Don't think we didn't realize that you've been poking around in our business, too. We let you get away with it until now, but this's the end of the line for the lot of you."

Mikoto's bared grin cocked menacingly to one side. "Awh gee, so you were thinking about me after all."

Their unwelcome guest snorted derisively with an arrogant smirk twisting his face. "Now that we got you all in one place, it's time to finish you off, king and clan."

"You used me as bait?" Neirah whimpered weakly.

Tempers had begun to flare on the side of the Red Clan as the quiet streets prepared for anarchy. "You guys got a young girl to do your dirty work?! That's a new kind of low!"

"Kamamoto," Izumo interrupted. He turned his gaze to where Rikio was shaking his balled fist towards the cluster of thugs blocking their exit from the mouth of the alley. "Things are about to get ugly down here. Go with Totsuka and make sure Tsukiyo-san gets out of here safely."

"Uh... you sure?" Rikio murmured nervously. "There's an awful lot of them this time."

"Yeah. I'm sure," Izumo murmured soundly. "You three can slip out the back. Let the others know what's going on."

"I came here on orders to kill you, and your first priority is to protect me." The lot turned their attention to where Neirah had spoken the quiet words in a low and aggravated tone. "Can you call that kindness, or is it stupidity?"

"Now, hold on just a minute!" Rikio anxiously thundered. "What d' ya mean _came here to kill us_?!"

"Stupidity it is."

Rikio recoiled like her words had stricken him with a penetrating force. "Say what!? If that's how it is, then you're on your own!" Rikio boomed with a humiliated blush in his round cheeks.

Izumo turned over his shoulder with an exhausted expression on his face. "Come on, you two. Now's not the time."

As she dropped her shoulder bag to the ground in a puddle forming at her feet, Neirah slowly raised her head, her determined gaze piercing the sight of her ex-employer lethally. "He's right. I'm not helpless. I can hold my own," she ordered coldly. She may not have had powers as they did, but she was a woman with nothing left to live for if she lost her will to fight. "And I'm sick of my mere presence bringing hardship to everyone around me."

Her employer twisted his teeth into a sardonic smile around his cigar as he drawled his orders. "Gun them down, boys. I don't want a single one drawin' breath come dawn." He raised a pistol in front of his face and lined it up with the head of his target. "Come at me, Monster."

"Here we go again," Izumo droned bleakly. "You'd think they'd learn." He slowly turned to face his king with a small half-smile. "What are you thinkin', Mikoto? Should we light 'em up so close to home base?"

Mikoto barely managed to smile when he felt the pressure of steel sailing by his neck close enough that he could feel it split the raindrops to fall, shaving stray strands of his wild crimson mane in the process. Instead of turning, his incredulous leer watched the dart slice through the air and end in the jugular of the man giving orders to the Yakuza clansmen around him. His vacant gaze watched the unsuspecting brute clamour for a moment, gargling blood that began to choke the life from his body as his cigar struck the bloody puddles by his feet.

Then, he ignored the momentary buzzing of fretful cries around him as he slowly turned over his shoulder to face the seething beauty at his back. His gaze narrowed with intrigue as Neirah panted her eagerness to unleash the passion she kept locked inside.

_I'm done_, is what she wanted to say. Neirah's face was wrought with conflicted emotions as she repaid the kindness shown to her the night before, no matter the cost. As brave as she tried to stand, her lips still trembled as she remained locked in the position that had taken her revenge. She met his burning amber stare, silently begging his forgiveness as her soft lips parted for her desperate mewl. "This isn't the fate I wanted."

After a brief moment of comprehending her sentiment, the Red King smiled, his low response setting fire to her veins in the cold rain. "Then make it what you want it to be, kid."

"She killed him! She killed the boss!"

"Shoot the bitch!"

"And let the chaos ensue," Izumo droned indifferently. He swirled his fingers by his side in a lazy circle, a thin strand of crimson coiling by his command like a neon sparkler. "Remember what I said, boys."

To the sound of Izumo's lighter ringing beneath the growling skies, Rikio watched the air ignite with the flames of their king, and after a moment of marvelling, he tipped his head towards the night sky. It was there that he caught the notice of a brilliant crimson glow materializing a substantial sword high above his king's crown. "W-whoa, no way... That's-"

Neirah's trembling gaze lingered as she shuddered in disbelief. She heard Tatara's words repeating in her head from when he told her the story, but nothing could have prepared her for the impact of seeing the enormous, twisted blade pierce the stormy urban sky. "The Sword of Damocles..." she marvelled.

She probably should have trembled, or outright fled the sight of ominous edges coiling around a glowing ruby centre. The view was downright demonic, but as the dynamic flicker of flames leapt from the surface in a swell of concentrated malice, she couldn't help but feel like somehow, the monstrosity was relatable to what existed deep within her. The fire looked like breath hissing from the carnivorous fangs of the decorated blade, and when she followed the directional tip downwards, she saw the confident glow of the Red King sparkling with dedicated wrath. But he wasn't afraid. As his lips twisted into an eager smirk around his disintegrating cigarette, there wasn't an ounce of hesitation beneath the blade waiting to devour what was beneath.

Moments after the gang members drew arms, enlarged golden embers were darting from around their host and beating the weapons from the clutches of their roof-bound opponents at Izumo's command. HOMRA was still relatively new to Rikio, and the amazement remained distracting, at times. He watched the fireballs vanish over the sides of the buildings, feeling small among his superiors as they took control of the situation at hand. It left him to linger beneath the protection of his hood in awe with the explosive display reflecting on the surface of his inappropriately adorned sunglasses. "Oh, man, this is intense."

"Come on," Tatara gently encouraged. "While they're distracted."

"Y-yeah, right!"

The pair flinched the moment that the woman between them sprang into action. First, she leapt onto a waste receptacle, jumping from that post to land against the brick laid into one of the walls she'd used to skip over towards another. After launching herself high enough to grasp a balcony railing, she lithely flipped herself over the ledge and prepared for combat.

"Oi! Where are you going!?" Rikio demanded fretfully. "Kusanagi-san said we were supposed to watch you!"

"Then I suggest you keep up!" She hadn't bothered to look back towards the men who startled into silence. "When those gunmen come to, they'll be sure to blindside us when we're at our weakest. I'm going to take them out before they have that chance!"

"W-wait!" Unable to appreciate her forward-thinking, Rikio retracted his outstretched hand with a meek whimper as he watched her vault over the side of the building to storm the rooftops. "Ah, Kusanagi-san's gonna be mad..."

"It's alright." Tatara murmured his words reassuringly with pride as he watched her vanish over the ledge. "Everything will work out, somehow."

Rikio's dejected expression pouted his hesitancy. "But he said to take Tsukiyo-san and warn the others."

Tatara turned his keen smile towards Rikio's worry. "Don't worry about that. I'll go."

Rikio slowly turned over his shoulder to face his less-confrontational companion. "Totsuka-san?"

"If they're still around, I'll go let Chitose and Dewa know what's happening. From there, we should be able to box them in from the other side and take control of the fight."

"But what about-?"

"Don't worry about Nei-chan. Something tells me that she'll be alright."

Her tiny feet were light as they struck the wet concrete slabs beneath, powering forward purposefully. She dropped to the first writhing target's side, drawing a delicate throwing knife from her hip and sliding it across his throat as she slipped along the dampened rooftop. Keeping her weapon in hand, she continued with the momentum gained, somersaulting along the concrete edge before springing to her feet and dashing into the next.

She whined softly to drive her blade deep into the man's gut as he fought desperately to wave out the fire on his shirt sleeve. Once she dropped him at her feet, she leapt back to avoid his final retaliating strike before carrying on.

Wide and panicked eyes just barely caught the imposing sight of sunlight exploding over the edge of the building, and she hit the hard surface swiftly to avoid combusting. Her shrill yelp of alarm had made its way into the commotion beneath, causing Izumo's face to bind inquisitively.

"Tsukiyo, is that you up there?" His breathing hitched when he turned over his shoulder to the sight of Rikio storming the passage alone. "I thought I told you two to keep an eye on her?"

"Sorry," Rikio mumbled in defeat as he sheepishly scratched at his nape. "She got out from under us."

Izumo's expression flattened. "You didn't even try to stop her, did you?"

"A-ah, she's kinda quick, y' know?!"

The pair leapt backwards, scattering from the gunshot that tore through their conversation and blackened the pavement between them. By the time Izumo whirled to launch a ranged assault towards their offender, the assailant was dropping from his post with a muffled cry.

They watched his limp body thump lifelessly onto the ground, the stray rays of moonlight reflecting off of the golden enamelled surface of a throwing knife. Izumo quickly raised his gaze towards the rooftops as a delicate shadow leapt between the buildings amid the chaos. For a moment, the Red King's roaring flames illuminated her lean silhouette beneath and the glow of a mighty crimson sword from above. After watching her roll into a safe landing on the second rooftop, Izumo caught a quaint chortle of amusement in his throat. "Huh, well I'll be."

It had been an ill-conceived effort to corner the Red King in a dark alleyway. It didn't matter how many men were gathered before him if they couldn't take the heat of his flames funnelling between the brick and iron around them. He caught the sound of stray gunfire and then tipped his attention towards the rooftops to where the assault seemed distant and misdirected. After the untimely defeat of their leader, pawns didn't know how to assemble, and the remaining forces scattered to defend against the wildcard. A low and interested hum rose over the crackling blaze as he watched the woman work like that had been her plan all along.

"Mikoto, take it easy," Izumo scorned. "My livelihood's just on the other side of those goons, y' know."

Suddenly, Tatara took a stand in front of his surprised king with a light smile before winking and dropping his arm out in front of him with only his index finger raised. The bar behind him had illuminated his soaking profile, but no matter how black the night or how bleak the situation, he never ceased to radiate positivity. "That'll about do it," he sang proudly. "Good job, King. I don't think they'll be causing us any more trouble."

Mikoto growled lowly beneath his breath and reined in his flash-flames just in time to catch the sight of two more clansmen clamouring around the base of his destruction to cut off any means of escape for stragglers. As he closed his eyes with a humbled sigh, the sword above his head slowly began to deteriorate until the night was still and silent around them once more, save for a dog barking in the distance.

After driving his palm swiftly into the underbelly of his fleeing target's jaw with a satisfying crack, a raven-haired addition slicked back his bangs and turned to face his king with worry wrinkling his brow behind thick-framed glasses. "Are you guys alright in there!?" Masaomi hollered after them. When he noticed that his efforts hadn't crippled his target, his teeth ground impatiently, and his arm ignited. He snapped the reverse of his forearm into the same victim's face, knocking the resilient brute into the focussed flames of his energetic cohort's kick. "Totsuka-san told us they jumped you out of nowhere."

Light brown bangs clung in subtle waves to the wet brow of Masaomi's accomplice as he dug his heel into their resistance. Even in the rain, the blazing tip of his cigarette intensified with the adrenaline-fueled inhales exasperated by frenzy. To the sound of agonized clamour, the ruby glow reflected in his sly russet gaze as his lips curled into a gratified smirk. "Shitty luck for them," Yō growled.

Izumo's smile was tranquil as he surveyed the stable situation. "I wouldn't necessarily call this out of nowhere," he teased. "I mean, we have been keeping tabs on them for a while."

After landing stably and taking Masaomi's side, Yō turned his curious gaze to face his superior with a sense of urgency in his demand. "And what about the woman? He said that they were gunning for some girl you picked up last night. What's that all about?"

With an instigating grin, Izumo tilted towards the skies, catching the sight of Neirah looming nervously overhead from the cleared rooftops. "See for yourselves."

Yō sighed his relief between Tatara and Masaomi, catching the impatient looming of his companion as Tatara giggled his amusement for the unspoken jab.

"See, King?" Tatara teased spiritedly. "Nei-chan did it again, working overtime to clean up your streets. You make a pretty good team, don't you think?"

Mikoto snorted gruffly before shifting his eyes towards where Neirah lingered hesitantly nearby. She held the appearance of a woman confident enough in her abilities to face death, but that was where she remained, concealing the fretful doe lingering deeper than flesh. She had a cautious nature and a passionate spirit, and as he quietly observed her, he watched the two battle for her future. The calm consideration drew his focus as he watched the new smoke from in front of his lips climb to meet her shadow.

"Nei-chan!" Tatara called out to her energetically, with both hands raised to support his holler. "Why don't you come down from there and meet the rest of us?"

Masaomi startled. "Wait... is he saying-?"

Neirah's cheeks bashfully glowed as she continued to look down on their gathering. As small as they looked from her perch, she was still frightened. "I would love to, but..."

Tatara's face knotted. "But what?"

"I- you see..." She diverted her attention in embarrassment as she twisted the toe of her high-heeled boot into the floor beneath. "Getting up here seemed much easier than getting down."

"I-is she serious right now?" Rikio clamoured. "What's she afraid of heights or somethin'?"

"It's like a cat in a tree," Izumo sniggered delightedly. "Someone go get the poor thing a ladder."

"What's wrong with the fire escape?" Yō suggested doubtfully.

Neirah was glad that they'd been so far away because all she wanted to do was bury her face in her hands for her humiliation. But just as she groaned her defeat, she heard the world-shattering sound of steel clanging behind her, and she whirled to face the sight of movement repositioning one of her previously fallen targets. Moments from responding, she realized that not only had she been out of throwing knives, but the ledge that she stood on had become incredibly slippery from the rain.

Izumo lurched forward to the sound of a stray gunshot echoing in the still night, and a moment later, the woman before them was falling towards the asphalt at their feet. "Shit! One of 'em managed to get off a shot before she took them out!" He'd been moments from rushing towards her aid when he was staggered by Rikio bolting her way instead.

"Hang on, Tsukiyo-san!" Rikio opened his arms, leaping just slightly off the ground the moment that the tiny woman had collapsed against him at high speeds. The two of them struck the pavement, skidding to a halt to the sound of pained groans.

The remainder of their company swiftly stormed the scene, Izumo only once glancing the rooftop where they realized that one of their opponents had managed to slink away. "Bastard..." he muttered grimly. "Somethin' tells me that one's gonna come back and bite us in the ass."

"Nei-chan!" Tatara shouted fretfully on approach. "Please, don't tell me-"

Neirah moaned lightly, raising her balled palm up Rikio's chest as she started to stir against him. She winced, opening her eyes slowly to observe the damage done to her saviour, and her heart began to ache with guilt. She thought that it was the same every time someone touched her, but relief overcame her when he opened one eye and smiled at her gratefully.

"You're okay," he droned delightedly. He rolled his head to one side with an appreciative sigh of reprieve. "That's a relief. I thought for sure he'd shot you."

With a gentle whine, she'd done her best to adjust over top of the man so she wouldn't aggravate his injuries. Unfortunately, she'd been so dizzy in her clumsy attempt that she ended up relying on his assistance anyway.

"Take it easy," Rikio tenderly assured her. "You're safe now."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I brought this upon you, but you saved me all the same."

Rikio blinked back at her apprehensively. "Uh... you're welcome?"

"Nei-chan, are you hurt?"

Neirah turned her sheepish smile over her shoulder towards Tatara as he charged the scene. "No, thanks to your friend here."

"Kamamoto," Rikio educated swiftly with a broad, albeit somewhat bashful smile. "Kamamoto Rikio. And I was glad to have helped."

Her mild grin twisted to one side as she diverted her attention. "I see that's something this particular gathering has in common." Flinching to the sight of a new hand offered her way, she tipped her glance towards the handsome young brunette extending it. Once she got past his charming million-dollar smile, she considered taking advantage of his kindness.

"Can you stand?"

"Leave it to Chitose-kun," Tatara teased playfully. "He never keeps a lady waiting."

"I hope she slaps it away," Masaomi nearly snarled.

Much to Masaomi's dismay, Neirah did no such thing. She accepted the aid of Yō's hand as well as some steadying reassurance from Rikio's around her hips as she started to stumble.

"Careful," Rikio fretted nervously. "That was a nasty fall."

She hadn't bothered admitting that her vertigo might have been more for the fact that she hadn't eaten that day after receiving her task from her previous employer. Instead, she straightened and took a deep breath, rolling her sore shoulder and regaining her footing despite the ache in her bruised hip from her impact with the ground. "I've survived worse," she assured them kindly. She was moments from smiling her respite alongside them when she appreciated how estranged the situation was. In doing so, her demeanour faded. "I'm sorry... I should have been upfront with you last night. I know I seemed nervous, but the truth is, I'm actually pretty used to all of this."

"Just because you're used to it doesn't mean it will get any easier," Izumo cautioned her with concern in his smooth voice. "In a way, I'm glad it went down like it did. That particular bunch has been a real thorn in my side recently, and with them gone, maybe you can go back to the way things were."

"The way things were..." Neirah's gaze skirted the ground nervously as the puddles grew more profound by the minute. "How is a sixteen-year-old assassin supposed to live when everything she touches falls to misfortune?" She raised her soft cobalt gaze towards the humbled men standing among her. "If you could tell me, I would be eternally grateful."

"You got tangled up in some bad stuff, that's for sure," Izumo acknowledged softly with disdain. "I'd hate to see all that ruin a young lady's future, but to tell you how to get along after the fact-"

The gathering turned their consolidated attention towards where Mikoto stepped among them with a gruff scoff, the end of his smouldering cigarette glowing with his deep inhale.

Izumo's brow knotted beneath the cling of his damp, dirty-blonde bangs. "Mikoto?"

"You don't." Mikoto ignored the hitching of breath behind him as his blunt sentiment hushed his followers. "And if you're looking for comfort, you should do it someplace other than a cold, damp alley in front of a bunch of rough-cuts like us."

Despite what the others expected, Neirah met his simplicity with a faint smile. "I appreciate your honesty," she whispered through a tone choked by emptiness. "I should have known better than to think that this was the light at the end of the tunnel." She surrendered her eyes to his intensity and gently rubbed a chill from her arms. She hated the cold with every fibre of her being, and at that moment, all she wanted was another nice hot bath. But what she wanted, her hopes and dreams, they all scattered like raindrops, there for a fleeting moment before they evaporated entirely. But even if it was just for a moment, she appreciated the warmth that his flame seared into her memories, and her divided heart warmed.

Unexpectedly, with eyes growing wide beneath dripping lashes, her breathing stalled in her aching chest to the sight of him raising his ignited palm towards her. Like the sword to cut the night not long before, the look of embers dancing on his skin should have frightened her. But she had always been strange.

Rikio took a demanding step forward with concern from where he remained behind Neirah. "Mikoto-san! What are you-?!"

"Shut up," Mikoto barked beneath his breath. He scrutinized her as she admired the unyielding crimson lick of the flames beneath the rain, consideration in the startled expression recalling the meaning of the invitation. The light reflected in her wide eyes as they vibrated with their attempt to follow the lively flicker, but she didn't tremble or fuss. "Here's your light, kid."

When she considered the feelings that she kept in her heart the moment the words filled her ears, her cheeks began to flood with colour. It wasn't a tunnel, but the alleyway made a pretty like comparison for the metaphor.

_Hope. Hope that one day, I'll break free of fate and live the life I choose._

_But fate is cruel, and the world is so cold._

"Take it if you can."

Neirah's attention snapped to where Mikoto's unwavering stare hadn't left her face as he watched her emotions rage. The hesitant hare, the fierce hunter, nobody had given her a choice to be anything other than what she required for self-defence. What interested him was what they would see once he granted her the opportunity to be anything she wanted to be.

"And make it yours."

_We choose our own fate; that is what he said to me._

_So, I left my fate in his hands_.

The hush left behind from the king's words continued as she reached out and held her long, slender fingers a breath away from the inferno raging in his palm. Fascination parted her lips as she watched the beautiful blaze lick flesh without scarring its surface. She raised her second hand to her throat, touching her pulse with intrigue as she took a deep breath and felt her anxiety lift with the severing of reality's bind. In an instant, the world opened up, a multitude of paths unfolding as she laid her hand in his and her life ignited.

_All I could think about at that moment was how steady his hand was as it held mine like he was afraid I would fall to ashes the moment he let me go._

Tatara took a step forward, his expression filled with excited wonder as he watched the pair fill the night with a brilliant crimson shade of hope. "King... you-" His eager stride was interrupted by the pressure of Izumo's steadying palm on his shoulder.

"You win this one, Totsuka," Izumo murmured fondly. "Take good care of her."

Tatara turned his excited gaze to face his friend, delight brightening his soft features. "Yes sir."

_April 25th, 2008 - It was so cold, like the world around me._

_But his hand... was so warm._


	3. Kinsman

**Kinsman**

* * *

_When we were through that night, not even ashes remained. I learned later that the Raikōjū Ka was responsible for more than just a couple of evil deeds, and their fate had been far from untimely. In fact, from the way Kusanagi-san tells the story, it was well justified. _

_As far as my own, I'm still trying to sort out the way I want it to go, but thanks to King-sama, I've been granted the freedom to choose. It still seems surreal to me; how an average high school student ended up calling a bar in Shizume City home. Well, some semblance of home, some semblance of family._

_It's hard to explain. Even if I just moved from one clan to another and my actions aren't really any more reputable, I don't feel regret like I used to. The ones I surround myself with now are good people, and I suppose I knew that from the start._

_That's why I'm here; because I chose to be. Ever since I can remember, I've plagued those closest to me with nothing short of disaster, but these people meet every challenge they face with fearless confidence and an avid spirit. I'm proud to face it alongside them. I don't know where I'm headed just yet, but until I get there, I will burn every obstacle that stands in our way with the passion I feel inside._

_No blood. No bone. No ash..._

"Nei-chan? Nei-chaaan-"

The moment Tatara touched her shoulder, the woman yelped her alarm and nearly toppled out of her barstool. "Tatara, you startled me!" She panted for his disruption, touching her fingers to her collar to feel her racing heartbeat like she thought she'd lost it. When her hand had fallen, it revealed her HOMRA insignia on the swell of her right breast as it scarcely vanished beneath the thin white material of her top.

"Can't imagine how," Izumo teased. "He's anythin' but stealthy. You must be pretty into that book of yours not to have noticed him." From where he'd been leaning his torso against his folded arms on the bar, he deviously sniggered as Neirah tossed him an agitated glower. "Alright, alright. I see now's not the time." Instead, he hitched his hip against the opposing side of the bar as Tatara claimed the stool beside her. "Also, is it really decent to be flashing that mark of yours like you do? I think you're the only one 'round here who does, and it kind of popped up in an inconvenient place for our first woman clansman."

Raising one long fingernail to her top's low, unbuttoned neckline, she peeled back the material to reveal the remainder of her mark to her observation. "I think it's the exact opposite," she mused fondly. "I'm glad to show it when I can."

Tatara's expression filled with awkward objection. "To be honest, even if your shirt collar wasn't so low, you'd still be able to see black ink beneath the white."

She turned her dejected pout towards the men pitifully. "Do you think it's indecent?"

"Yes." | "Not at all!"

Tatara groaned as he failed to keep Izumo from ruining the girl's mood with their judgment. "Just be careful, okay?" he defended sheepishly. "King's made some pretty big enemies in the last little while."

"So, what have you been into recently that's got you so distracted?" Izumo strategically interrupted. "I'm used to you takin' up space for homework sometimes, but that doesn't look like a textbook."

Neirah's expression lightened as she turned her page. "I'm reading up on something special," she casually informed them in a quiet tone. "This actually doesn't have anything to do with school."

"You can't start a story like that and then hold out on us," Tatara teased. "How come you didn't mention it before?"

"So nosy." A careful smile crossed her face as she closed the book like she'd been anxious to inform them of its purpose all along. "The battle the night I joined the Red Clan, it got me thinking... My time with the Yakuza was different. I had to be tactful to keep myself safe."

Tatara and Neirah's attention jumped to the sight of Izumo dropping his head with an overtly exasperated sigh. "Good grief, a little over a month and you're already picking up our bad habits."

"Come on, Kusanagi-san. You're being dramatic," Tatara sassed. "Nei-chan is still tactful."

"Tact isn't even the tangent of this conversation," she tediously reprimanded. "Empowered or not, I still make my stand at a distance, but once I'm out of darts, I'm practically useless."

"What about your flames?" Tatara pried. "I don't think I've seen you use them yet. Can you use them from far away like Kusanagi-san?" Most of their new members had tested out the rush of power the moment they received its influence, but most of their members had been hot-blooded ruffians too.

Knowingly, her smile broadened as she closed her library rental and thrust forward the reference material cover she gripped in both hands. "This is how I'll use them."

"Tungsten?" Izumo murmured curiously. "As in, the metal?"

"Are you going to light your knives on fire before throwing them?"

Neirah turned her attention squarely on Tatara, her expression bright with mischief. "That wouldn't keep me from running out of ammo, would it?"

"Fine, keep your secrets," Izumo dismissed with a casual flap of his fingers. "Man, you're like a kid out for ice cream."

Returning her book to the bar top, she lingered on his pleasing comparison. "If I was out for matcha-flavoured-"

She was interrupted by Tatara's fond laugh. "You like anything that's matcha. Kusanagi-san, you wouldn't believe it! She has a whole cupboard full of different flavoured matcha tea!"

"What's so great about ground up tea leaves in ice cream?" Izumo instigated.

"The same thing that's great about ground up tea leaves in water," she educated.

"And chocolate and milk candies- Oh! By the way, I found the pack you thought you lost at home the other day."

Neirah turned to face him with wide and wondering eyes as her expression filled with betrayal. "And they're not in my hand right now?"

Tatara laughed uneasily in an attempt to dodge the subject he'd been foolhardy enough to bring up. "Wait, so what about the tungsten, Nei-chan?"

"What about the candies, _Tatara_?"

Luckily, the timely entrance of Izumo's laughter saved him. "I was wondering how that sorta living arrangement would play out. This gives me a little insight."

"Hey, now, that's not fair," Tatara defended sheepishly. "Nei-chan and I are great roommates."

"If you don't fork over the goods, we'll be _ex_-roommates."

"Nei-chaaan."

"Uh oh, do I smell relationship problems?"

"Not funny, Chitose," Tatara bleated meekly.

"Sounds like a stick-up if you ask me," Masaomi teased. The pair walked through the bar doors side-by-side and joined the conversation with roguish smiles. "You better give her what she wants, Totsuka-san. I hear she's pretty dangerous, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea to go breaking her heart."

Tatara's exhausted expression dropped under the pressure of their playful interrogation. "Nei-chan and I aren't in a relationship, so there's no trouble."

"Sounds like there's about to be."

"Kusanagi-san, don't you start too."

Neirah turned her attention casually towards where Yō had commandeered the seat on the opposing side to her as Tatara. He laid his head in one hand while the other caressed the black bangle dangling around her wrist beneath his enchanted gaze. "If you're not in a relationship, then there shouldn't be any reason why we can't go out sometime, right?"

Much to Masaomi's delight, her vacant expression watched the gleam of keen interest shift in his attention, one of her brows slowly riding up one side in denial of his attempted seduction. "I'd give you a list if I had time to index them all."

Izumo barely managed to stifle his entertained snort as she jerked her delicate paw out of Yō's reach and let his weighted palm flop against the hardwood. "Smooth." His meandering leer cut towards Yō in his sharp peripherals as his smile tightened. "I was gonna break your hand for gettin' too close, but that was satisfying enough."

Humiliated, Yō immediately redirected his attention toward their amused bartender. "I was admiring her accessory," he defended curtly. "I like it."

"Then maybe I'll get you your own, so you'll leave mine alone," she snorted equally as briskly. She turned up her nose and rolled the sparkling diamond studs away from his observation.

"Keep playin' hard to get," Yō rebuked bitterly with a playful smile. "I like a challenge-"

Suddenly, the gathering had turned their attention to where Izumo had unexpectedly snagged Yō's collar in both hands, dragging him over the bar and out of sight. Their curious stares followed their figures into the kitchen before Yō's unheeded pleas were drowned in the sounds of his suffering.

Sweat beaded on Tatara's nape as he recoiled to the sound of scrambled clamour, but his sunny smile hadn't set. "I think that was the line," he murmured. "Poor Chitose... Nei-chan was hard enough on him."

The same unease had plagued Masaomi, but there was nothing they could do for their comrade. Izumo had warned them all the night Mikoto had decided to welcome their first female clansman, but the only one who seemed to have a hard time accepting his warning was Yō.

They tried their best to divert the subject. "You know, it's kind of funny," Masaomi started apprehensively. "When we first met her, I thought Tsukiyo might have been your sister, Totsuka-san."

Tatara tipped his forefinger to his lips in thought and then he flinched with enlightenment. "I never thought of it that way." His awkward smile was light and airy. "It does kind of sound like Nē-chan, doesn't it?"

The awkward perspire Masaomi suffered had become more for Tatara's cluelessness than for Yō's mistreatment. "It sounds _exactly_ like that..."

Tatara's sheepish laugh joined the conversation filled with delight. "Well, it's not too far off. I mean, we're all kind of like family, right? And Tsukiyo is kind of like our sister." He turned his fond smile towards the flushed woman focusing less intently on the commotion in the kitchen than initially. "I help her with her homework, King watches over her, and Kusanagi-san makes sure the boys don't give her any trouble. It just makes sense." To the sight of Neirah's fixed observation, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Oops, I hope that didn't sound too strange. I know we haven't known each other very long."

Masaomi laughed lightly from where he stood by their sides. "You say that, but she moved in the night you met. If you ask me, that's the strange part."

Tatara's next laugh was a little uneasy. "I guess you're right."

"But you're not wrong, either." Masaomi turned his attention towards the woman with a soft smile. "If it's okay with Tsukiyo-chan, I'd like to call her Nē-chan too."

After cocking her head off to one side, Neirah's thoughtful pout considered his unusual request. "But I'm pretty sure you and Chitose are older than I am, no?"

Masaomi shrugged with a quirky grin. "Eh, to be honest, you act more mature than he does anyway." He reconnected their gazes and let his expression soften fondly. "And the way you act around here keeping the peace all the time kinda reminds me of my big sister."

"I keep the peace, too, sometimes," Tatara supported dejectedly.

Masaomi's tone flattened. "Yeah, but you don't make people bleed when you do it." He tilted his anxious expression out of her diverted sights and lowered his voice in monologue. "Come to think of it; my sister made Chitose bleed the first time he tried to hit on her too."

Neirah diverted her bashful gaze to the side with her best attempt at concealing her small smile. "Nē-chan..." She was like a sister, and this was like her family. Something about that had made her insides feel warm among her fluttering heart. She turned back towards him with a kind and acceptant smile. "I think I'd like that."

Just as Masaomi smiled at her, Yō burst out from behind the bar and scrambled to the safety opposing it. Before he managed to dart out of the building entirely, his body went slack as if he'd struck an invisible wall, and he returned to where Neirah lingered. Her brow knotted as he stood squarely before her, and after dropping his head in a swift bow, she lowered her gaze to where a drop of blood fell into her lap from his bloody nose.

"Sorry, Tsukiyo-san! It won't happen again!"

All gazes watched his rushed exit as Izumo strode casually out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a once-clean rag. "That was nice of him to apologize like that."

Tatara and Masaomi slowly slipped their gazes back to where Izumo's natural smile hadn't faltered while Neirah carefully dabbed the blood from her denim. When she turned to look at Izumo, her lips curled into a small smile to think about how accurate Tatara's statement had been; how welcome the thought had made her feel. So, she bashfully indulged. "Thank you, Onii-san."

The cigarette Izumo had just lit toppled from between his lips as they gaped to the sound of her pleasant coo. "E-eh?"

Tatara slowly turned his strained smile towards Masaomi as Izumo quickly rushed the effort of stomping out the still burning stub beneath his shoe with a bitter curse. "One big... happy family."

Masaomi started to laugh but couldn't force himself to follow it through. "I... think I'm going to go check up on Chitose. Not that he didn't deserve it or anything." He turned over his shoulder with a casual wave as he exited the bar. "See you later, Totsuka-san, Nē-chan!"

Hearing Masaomi's new address, Izumo raised his attention from the ashy remains of his nicotine like the effort might make the man's statement clearer. "Wait, did he just say Nei-chan? Since when did they get chummy?"

Tatara redirected his attention playfully towards the puzzled barkeep. "Not Nei-chan, Nē-chan."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

His smile broadened as he rested his elbows on the bar top and laid his peaceful expression in his palms. "To me, they are."

* * *

Bright sapphire eyes carefully admired the length of chain between her hands. The links were small and bright, but from what her research told her about the alloy used in its construction, it was going to be perfect for what she needed.

"Nei-chan, I'm home!" Tatara's surprised attention darted to where he heard the sound of rattling chains accompanying the thud of the woman's collapse. "Uh... are you okay?"

Muffled groaning sounded from just over the other side of their kitchenette island. "You're no good for my heart, Tat-chan."

Whimsy filled his delighted chuckle to hear her indulge him with her new pet name that she'd secretly blessed him with not long ago. "Wow, you're in a good mood tonight, I see."

Struggling to untangle herself, she poked her head around the corner of the island to catch his intrigue with a bashful smile. "Actually, I need your help."

"You don't seem to be up a tree?"

"Very funny..."

There was music in his voice as he dropped his keys and started through their humble abode, prying his shoes off in the doorway before shuffling towards her. "I don't know if I ever told you but, Kusanagi-san was afraid you might claw up his bar the night we brought you back."

"I'm not a cat," she pouted. "No matter how many creams I put in my coffee."

"That's not why he said it," he teased as he removed his light jacket. "But since you brought it up, can you even call it coffee when it's that colour?"

"Not a cat!"

"Okay, okay, you win," he surrendered. "I told him that, too. I told him you're more like a lioness. You have the same vibe as King. You're hunters, you see?"

Neirah tipped her head back with an exasperated moan. "Tat-chan, you always stay at Kusanagi-san's so late and then all you do when you come home is talk about King-sama."

He paused and tipped his uncertain pout her way. "Is that bad?"

She closed her eyes, her head thumping dully against the partition at her back as she awaited his assistance. "It is when I'm this excited to show you something!"

"Excited?" He seemed enlightened by the thought. "Did you get your grades from your pop-quiz?!"

"Tat-a-raaa!"

"Okay! I'm coming. Calm down." He laid his coat down and approached her distressed calls, surprised to see her sitting proudly on the floor, tangled in an extended length of chain. You could tell by the lines of his face that he struggled to keep his smile from fading with befuddled disappointment. Still, she beamed delight and offered him the sight of the chain like a child showing their mother the snake they just pulled out of the garden. "W-wow, Nei-chan... A... is that a chain?"

"Uh-huh."

He surrendered his facade to show genuine concern in his astonished expression. "And why... do you have a chain?"

She dropped the mass lifelessly with an impatient scowl. "Really? Tatara, we _just_ talked about this."

He seemed to think on the announcement carefully for a moment before his tender russet gaze met hers. "Is it... a tungsten chain?" She nodded her head so eagerly that he thought it might rattle right off her shoulders, and he quickly sprang into action. "Oh, no! Here, let me help you!"

She quickly jerked the chain away with defiance. "It's not that heavy," she scolded. "That's not what I needed your help for."

"Really? It wasn't?"

She shook her head just as fiercely as she'd nodded it moments before. "No, it's not," she reiterated. She ignored his keen observation as he sat across from her, and she dug through her belongings. When she returned, she offered him the sight of two sharp kunai knives. Her expression brightened as she watched him take an interest in the golden throwing darts. "I was wondering if you could use your fire to help me cut the chain and weld it back together around these."

"When you said that you were worried about not being able to get your throwing knives back, I didn't really expect something like this," he admitted anxiously. "That's a pretty intense weapon you've got there."

Her cheeks blushed rosy as she held out both upturned palms with the chain dangling in the centre. "It's going to take some getting used to because the balance is going to be all off, but I think there are more benefits to be had this way." Her brow creased with focus as her delighted half-smile watched the chain in front of her bright eyes glow white-hot with the presence of her aura. "Tungsten has a high melting point so I can make the chain super-hot without damaging it. Hot enough to cut if I focus enough energy into it."

"Wow, Neirah, that's amazing..." His smile humbled with modesty as she expressed her joy. He was glad to see evidence of Mikoto's flame within her, a mighty blaze capable of protecting her from harm. That was a particular fire that he'd never drawn from their king. "I'm happy for you." It seemed like what she wanted him to say as she lingered before him looking so proud.

She let the chain cool in her palms for a moment before turning her burning eyes towards her roommate. "With this, I can protect King-sama even better than before. I'll finally be able to repay him for all he's done for me."

"Nei-chan..."

She almost laughed despite her cynicism, her cheeks so hot beneath her wild stare that she thought she might burst into flames too. But regardless of her evident pride, her sparkling gaze still trembled, her face knotted with the sentiment. "It's because of him... that I have a family now. I finally have people... who can stay by my side, who _will_ stay by my side." She felt Tatara's arms come around her in quiet comfort as a couple of stray tears leaked over her cheeks from wide eyes, and her conclusive whisper admitted her heart's truth. "I never... thought that would be possible."

"And now you're afraid to lose us, is that it?"

Wild eyes finally settled, and her gaze narrowed on the sight of their stray belongings scattered around their home. Home, and a place to belong. Even an assassin needed one, and it seemed like maybe it was something she'd finally found within HOMRA where people supported her, cared for her.

"I won't let anyone take you away from me, not even fate," she promised him meekly. "Not you, or Onii-san, King-sama, or even Chitose-kun. I'm going to protect every one of you for as long as you'll let me." She startled to the sound of gentle laughter, so she was curious when he pulled away from their embrace and rested his palm on the top of her head.

"And here we're all worried about looking after you."

She shook her head gentler the second time. "I'm not helpless," she defended. "I'm a hunter, remember?"

"Lion-chan," he teased. "It makes sense when you think about it. You do all the work when all King does is eat and sleep. Just like real lions." His expression humbled fondly to her sullen challenge as his tone softened with sincerity. "HOMRA's Red Lioness." His speech diminished as he slipped a lock of hair from over her shoulder and admired it in the soft lighting of their main room. "Have you always had these highlights? Or did they show up after you met King?" He fluffed the strands playfully to encourage a gentle giggle from within his roommate. "Strange, Kusanagi-san says King gives him grey hairs, not red."

Her expression cracked with bashful glee as he made light of her determination. "Don't be silly. My hair has always had red in it."

He chuckled lightly and released the strand. "I guess it wouldn't be auburn without the 'burn' in it, huh?" The room filled with their light laughter, and if someone had overheard the sound, it might have instilled feelings of home and familiarity. "It's nice to see that you have a sweet side, too," he added. "I was worried the night we had our falling out with that Yakuza group you used to work for. You really didn't show them any mercy."

Neirah's hard demeanour returned as she snorted delicately and began to fold her new chain weapon. "If Kusanagi-san had of told me that they were trafficking girls my age as human dolls earlier, you would have redefined savage. I hold no aversions to being one." Her weakened gaze stared into the links of the chain uncertainly, careful to touch every one and follow their linkage until she reached the last. "It makes me wonder, though... If it weren't for you chasing me into the alley that night... would I have been next?"

Tatara gently shook his head. "I don't think so," he quietly theorized. "You're too smart and cautious. I feel that if they tried something like that, things would have ended up pretty much the same."

Except she might have ended up cold and hungry on the street all alone. She scoffed lightly to mock Tatara's contagious positivity. "You say the most ridiculous things sometimes..." She returned her fond gaze to his, accepting of his outlandish claim. "But, somehow, it always makes me feel a little bit better, so thank you."

"Ah, so gloomy," he scolded brightly. "On another note, do you know what's coming up in a couple of weeks?"

_Oh?_

"Chitose's birthday. Kusanagi-san said it was the second week of June or something like that."

She turned her wry smile towards her roommate as she dabbed at the dampness lingering on her cheeks. "So, I suppose you want me to treat him kindly that day, hm?"

He laughed energetically. "That's right. Do you think you'll be able to come by to celebrate with us for a bit? I think it would mean a lot to him, and I'm going to try that cake recipe that I was telling you about the other day."

"Why don't you make the one you made for Kamamoto-kun's birthday? He seemed to like it."

Tatara leaned back with a sigh as he tipped his gaze towards their splendid city view and fanned his hands around his head. "Because it's exciting to try something new. Besides, Kamamoto likes anything sweet."

Her gasp filled with eager delight as she dropped her chain to the floor and lurched forward. "Tat-chan! Do you think you could make a sweet matcha cake with green tea frosting!?"

Her audacity caught him by surprise and made him keel over with amusement. "Pft, I'm sure Chitose would _love_ that. Nei-chan is a bit of a sadist at times, isn't she?"

She snorted curtly but didn't deny his proclamation. "To be honest, if he could appreciate something robust like that, he might have piqued my interest."

"Promise," he reprimanded puckishly. "Promise me you'll be nice to him on his birthday."

Despite their occasional misgivings, her cheeks coloured with delight to think about their upcoming plans. "I promise," she surrendered swifter than anticipated. "How exciting... I've never had anyone to celebrate before, and now we're celebrating every month, it seems."

"Eh!? Really? Not even your classmates?"

She quietly shook her head, but she didn't seem depressed. "Nope. I was a pretty sheltered child. They moved me around a lot, and then by the time I was old enough to realize that I ruined people's lives, I stopped caring."

"As dramatic as that was, I'm certain you won't be ruining any of our lives anytime soon," he reassured her impishly.

She turned her mischievous smile to face him squarely. "Except maybe Chitose-kun's."

The apartment was filled with the song of laughter again, companionship seeping into the walls around them as she let hers down. Everything continued to feel surreal, like at any moment, she might wake from the sweetest of dreams, and the warmth sharing her home would be gone with what remained of her sanity. But with Tatara by her side, she didn't seem to mind. She wanted to delight in every fine detail explicitly until the moment the curtain had finally dropped, and the cold grip of reality had collared her for a second time. Unfortunately, it would have to fight her dream for a place. As she raised her fingers to the leather choker against her throat, she touched the red bead dangling in its centre with a satisfied smile. Because until she woke up, she had somewhere to belong.

"Tatara?"

After relaxing his arms behind where he sat cross-legged on the floor, Tatara turned his bright eyes towards her calm interruption. "Hm? What is it, Nei-chan?"

"This is real, right?" she murmured. "You're… _real_, right?" When Tatara didn't respond, Neirah quickly dropped her hands into her lap and wrinkled up her face beneath the hot flush of humiliation. "A-ah, sorry. I didn't mean to say something to strange all of a sudden."

Tatara's expression softened to the sight of her flustering madly nearby. "I wasn't going to say strange," he tenderly refuted.

"Liar," she scolded bitterly. "Even if you weren't going to say it, I already know what I am."

"Not strange," he repeated brightly. "Nei-chan is interesting, and that's why I want to know so much more about you."

A sheepish blush dusted her tanned cheeks as she thinly scrolled peripheral gems his way. "You don't mean that…"

Tatara leaned forward with a reassuring cheer, dusting his palm under her bangs to check her brow for fever. "Yes! I do! So, there's no reason to act like such a tsundere."

Neirah lingered quietly beneath his pressure, less her agitated groan, but soon, she shifted her eyes back towards his tender fondness. "I'll be nice to Chitose-kun on his birthday…"

He sat back on his haunches with a playful chuckle. "Of course, you will, you promised!"

"But Tat-chan must promise me something in return."

Tatara's stomach flopped, and the hesitancy was most importantly evident in the way his expression dampened with sincere doubt. "I have to promise too?"

Without raising her eyes from the sight of the chain links between them, Neirah gently nodded her head. "And you have to promise me with all your heart, so I know you mean it."

He wasn't good at keeping promises, he had never been, and the way she asked him so honestly to give his word had him worried that if he failed her, she would be heartbroken. But something was drawing him to consider that if he only managed to keep one in his entire life, it would mean the most if he kept hers. "What… what would you like me to promise?"

"That no matter what, you won't disappear." Her tone was weak, scarcely a whisper past her lips as she raised her knees and clutched them until she balled in the centre of the floor across from him. He felt like her imaginary friend, something her mind had conjured when she finally slipped into madness. It was too perfect, and he was too… perfect. "I'm sure it seems childish, but… I don't think anyone could ever understand… what it means to me. It's been a month, and you're.… still here. We're still smiling, here, together."

With a gentle sigh, Tatara crawled up next to her and pried into her space until their brows could tap. He closed his eyes, his smile soft as listened to her breathing hitch, the tears bubbling in her eyes as she trembled with unease. "I'll smile with you until you find the smile in your heart. No matter what."

Dismissing a gentle snivel, she moaned her affectionate instigation. "You promise me?"

Even if Tatara's heart was racing with indecision, he knew that the woman they'd found that night needed a friend like he'd only known once before, and even if she didn't realize it yet, he might have needed her too. He quietly slipped away from her, still near as he opened his eyes and gently reached to her with only his pinkie extended. "Should we shake on it, or do you not want to touch hands with me either?"

A warming heart racing in her chest, Neirah couldn't help but sputter out a meek chortle. Without an ounce of hesitancy, she raised her pinkie to his and let the digits intertwine, binding their words for the eternity they promised.

"Just remember, if you bully Chitose even once on his birthday, you broke the promise." He said the words, but he knew in his heart that even if she was mean, he wasn't going to give up on her beautiful smile. She deserved better than that.

Neirah's heart fluttered, her free hand trembling as the warmth of his skin radiated through the contact until she'd felt it as far as her toes. His warmth was her warmth, her smile was his smile, so as long as they were together, they were complete. One day, she hoped that she would be right enough to return the favour, bringing him a smile when he thought he couldn't, just like he had done for her.

_Forever._

_I remember that I asked you to promise me, but I didn't feel like I could take our vow seriously without offering something equally as deserving of your devotion in return. So, aside from waiving any malcontent towards our shared comrade, I made a second promise that night without telling you that's what I did._

_That night, I swore to return the favour. No matter how scared I was, I would stay by your side as long as you'd have me, forever, even. I would fight to be there with you always._

_Because your smile was where I felt at home, and home finally meant something to me._

* * *

**_June 13th, 2008 7:20 pm_**

Something strange was in the air that evening as Neirah exited a shop across town. Despite her comrade's warnings, her short-sleeved white blouse sat unbuttoned until the lace of her bra peeked through in spots, her HOMRA insignia on grand display. It was always the first thing she'd done when school was out, and she enjoyed watching people pass her by with questioning gazes. She had always wanted a tattoo, and nothing could have had more meaning to her than her family's mark, so she hadn't lied to her friends when she'd told them she was proud to flaunt it.

As she tucked her wallet into her pocket, the small paper bag hanging around her wrist rustled, and she couldn't take the smile off her face. A lot had changed for her since the last time she'd quietly reflected on her life. Something about the association with her new companions had kept a spring in her step, an extra sway in well-developed hips as she strode confidently down the sidewalk towards home.

She stayed a little late at school that Friday afternoon with a classmate to take extra notes so, by the time she completed her shopping, the sun was beginning to salute the day, blinding her from just beyond the horizon. But even as the day died, she was teeming with energy in need of use. She had always been a bit of a restless spirit.

Suddenly, she felt her phone begin to rumble in her pocket, and her breathing hitched into a musical hum of inquiry. The clicking of her high-heeled boots had ceased for a moment as she scrambled to check the caller identification.

She purred curiously before her smile returned. "Kusanagi-san. He must be calling to make sure I don't forget about tomorrow." She giggled girlishly and accepted the call with a bright beam uttering her sultry quip. "You've reached Tsukiyo Neirah," she sang. "I'm busy birthday shopping for a friend right now and can't take your call. Please leave a message-" Neirah's once playful demeanour faded the moment Izumo's sombre sigh sounded over the line. "after..."

"I hate to do this to you, Neirah, but I'm gonna have to ruin that chipper mood of yours," he murmured slowly.

Neirah felt her legs get weak as a relapse of haunting memories seized her tongue. In her mind, she could hear the laboured breathing of her daunting ex-employer on the other line muttering his orders. _I have a job for you. _Her body started to shake, and her breathing hastened. _Take them out._

"You alright, kid?"

She startled back into reality and raised her fingers to the glass bead at her throat before taking a deep breath. "Fine," she vaguely admitted as she began walking once more. "Well, almost fine. That depends on what you're going to say to ruin my day."

A thin smile curled his lips as he leaned against his bar, avoiding eye-contact with the business side of it as he spoke. "Straight to it, huh? I like that about you."

"It comes from my previous employment."

Izumo snickered lowly and tipped his head to examine the top shelf of his liquor stock absently. "The last thing I want to do is bring back bad memories, but I have a favour to ask." Hesitantly, Izumo finally tipped his gaze over his shoulder to where Mikoto sat across from him with a vacant leer piercing their conversation intently. Under the immense pressure, Izumo continued. "Do you remember when we talked about Strains?"

"Of course. They're like the rogues of the supernatural world."

"Fair," he agreed. "Well, some of 'em can be kinda dangerous if they step outta line." He diverted his gaze, and his expression twisted dismally despite his weak smile. "And one of 'em got after Chitose just a couple hours ago."

Halting her trajectory with a stern slam of her boot hadn't been wise when she'd been in the middle of a crosswalk, but despite the horns blaring at her impatiently, she cleared her mind of everything but Izumo's words. "Is he okay?" she demanded in a hard, defensive tone.

He swelled with pride to hear the woman's calm and concerned response. "Yeah... He'll be alright. I took him into the hospital. Dewa's with him now, and he just gave me the update a few minutes ago."

"And?"

"He's got a couple cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder, but like I said, he'll be fine. The son-of-a-bitch attacked him in broad daylight, so he bolted before the authorities caught wind of it. Probably why our boy's still in such good shape."

Neirah heaved her first breath in what seemed like a lifetime and continued on her way with a heavy heart. "Are you calling to let me know we'll be celebrating his birthday in the hospital? If so, you're right. That puts a nasty knot in my stomach."

"Nah, he should be discharged in no time, providing they don't find anythin' too complicated like internal bleeding. He's in pretty good spirits over the whole thing. Says the nurses there are somethin' else."

"Typical," she hissed through her returning grin. Her spirits seemed to lift slightly to the sound of his reassurance. "The favour then? I'm assuming it has something to do with the Strain who got away."

His throat worked dryly as his nerve trembled. "You've been with us a while now, and I think you have a pretty good idea how we operate 'round here. The boys aren't too happy about what just went down, and they're all lookin' for blood." He'd been surprised when her curt scoff interrupted his casual warning.

"That's odd. I thought we didn't leave any?"

Izumo's genuine fondness had shown through once more in his casual smile. "A woman after HOMRA's heart," he mused impishly. "So, let's get down to it. I want you to track this guy down and find out where he keeps himself. He's elusive enough that SCEPTRE4 never got their hands on 'im and strong enough that the authorities can't take him into custody."

"Well then, it sounds like the only fate he hasn't escaped is ours," she sang. "And who better to deliver the sentence than HOMRA's cursed hunter. Just one touch and misfortune will be the last of his worries."

"Now, now, don't get too excited. It's hard enough for me to keep the rest of these dogs on a tight leash. I'm countin' on you to be the bigger man around here."

"I'm a woman."

"That's right, and I don't want you to put yourself in harm's way."

"You want me to draw him out, don't you?"

"I want you to track him down," he reiterated sternly. "I didn't intend on using you as bait the first time either, so don't go takin' it like that. Just find out where he hangs his hat and bring that information back here safe and sound. You're not to engage him under _any_ circumstance. Even with your powers, you're-"

"Still just a girl?"

With an uneasy sigh, Izumo tipped his gaze towards Mikoto's curious prying. "Yeah."

Neirah smiled faintly and stopped on a street corner, turning to look into the setting sun towards home before she decided to turn the opposite direction. "What does King-sama have to say about this?"

He laughed lightly to watch Mikoto's expression darken to the sound of his dim growl like he'd heard what the woman said through reading his second-in-command's face. "You let me worry about Mikoto," he teased impishly. He turned away from their king entirely to avoid the heat of his glower. "The fact of the matter is; you're good at what you do. We need someone light on their feet to get in and out without poking the bear too much. Once we know what he's all about, Mikoto will make the call whether we move or not."

"They hurt Chitose-kun, of course, we will..."

Izumo's expression dropped as he stared vacantly forward to the sound of venom seeping through the phone in her bitter hiss. "Neirah..." He closed his eyes and picked up his gaping jaw, shuddering to banish the shiver she sent down his spine. "Listen, if it's too much, say the word. We're not doin' this like the last guys, so there's no need for you to panic." He dropped his hips against the bar and folded his free hand into the arm he used to clutch his mobile to his ear. "I'm only a phone call away. If things get rough, we'll bail you out in a flash."

He let the silence linger on the line for a moment before a defiantly proud smile began to curl his lips. "So, what do ya say? Is our little lion ready for her first hunt?" After another silence that seemed to extend a lifetime, his chest heaved delight to the sound of her enthusiastic response.

"Send me the location of his last known whereabouts."

* * *

Not far away, Masaomi was mid-laugh as a nurse walked into the bright room he and his friend were hauled up in until Yō's results had come back. The pair were pretty eager for his discharge, considering the plans they had arranged for the following day were nothing a couple of bruises would interrupt. Unfortunately, the nurse had come alone and without the doctor required to give them the good news. She delivered something else instead.

"I'm sorry for the long wait, you two," she started empathetically. "We're swamped tonight and a little short-staffed."

"It's fine," Masaomi reassured her kindly. He threw his thumb over his shoulder to where Yō was patiently waiting. "It wouldn't kill this guy to slow down anyways."

"Not funny," Yō groaned. "Next time, you stand there and get beat so _I_ can laugh it off."

The woman didn't seem to take their fond teasing lightly as she offered an apologetic bow. "Again, I'm so sorry."

Masaomi turned his attention to where she continued to approach even after repeating her apology, a small black paper bag in her hand. What was strange was that she passed him by and offered it to their wounded company. "Hm? What's that?"

"A sweet young woman dropped this off at the front desk about an hour ago and asked that it be delivered to you as soon as possible."

Yō ignored his friend's impatient face-palm as his expression ignited eagerly. "W-wait, a woman? Did she give you her name? Or her phone number?"

"Chitose!"

The woman reached out with a knowing smile and handed him a folded piece of paper. "All she gave me was that package and asked me for some paper to write this note. She seemed to be in a hurry. Please excuse me."

As the woman made her exit, Yō stared down at the folded piece of paper intently.

"Who do you think it could have been?" Masaomi pried.

"I don't know," he admitted vaguely. "I didn't think many people knew I was in here. Just you and the guys back at HOMRA."

Masaomi tipped his head to the side but kept his sardonic expression locked on his companion to instigate puckishly. "Maybe it was your mother."

"She said young!"

Masaomi's expression grew vexed with consideration. "Maybe you have a secret admirer?"

"Not unlikely."

"Don't say that so casually!" Masaomi flinched when Yō turned to him with a pleading look on his face, offering him the folded paper. "Why are you giving it to me?" he hissed.

"I only have one arm that works right now. Could you just unfold it for me?" His friend did as instructed and opened the document, going through great lengths not to read the contents with a subtle blush of jealousy on his face. But after returning the paper, he redirected the full attention of his curiosity to Yō's reaction.

_Chitose,_

_Kusanagi-san told me what happened. I might get tied up tomorrow, but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about your birthday. _

_Please get well soon,_

_Tsukiyo_

His breathing caught abruptly. "W-what-?! Tsukiyo-san?" He immediately recoiled pitifully to the sound of Masaomi's impatient roar.

"Yeah, right! She said sweet!" Masaomi snatched the paper out of Yō's hand, aggravated by his comrade's deceitful games, and ignored the way the man withdrew in pain. "Nē-chan practically hates you. There's no way-" He continued to focus on the neatly printed words written before him despite the rustling of the bag Yō dug through with the one arm not in a sling across his chest. Then, to be sure, he reread them as the tissue paper crinkled outside of his comprehension. "Wait, she really did write this..."

Yō's breathing hitched as his full chocolate gaze stared past his dishevelled bangs into the sight he dropped out of the bag. It had taken him a moment to wash away the show of sentiment on his face before he emitted a gruff snicker.

By the time Masaomi accepted that Neirah cared enough to recognize that the next day would be his friend's eighteenth birthday, Yō raised his one functioning hand and held out the thin black bangle towards him. He let the short row of pale gems reflect the white hospital lights in wait until Masaomi considered them.

"You mind?"

Stricken by the sight, Masaomi was equally as unbelieving as Yō had been the moment he'd seen it. Once he too banished the mawkishness for pride, he scoffed and turned up his nose as he snatched the bracelet that would match Neirah's. "Don't let it go to your head," he scorned while smoothing the article around Yō's uninjured left wrist. "Maybe she doesn't hate you, but Kusanagi-san will put you right back in here if you even _think_ about it. This one's off-limits, you hear me?"

Yō looked down at his gift with an unusually calm smile on his face, his thoughts beginning to humble as they wandered. "You know what? I'm okay with that," he admitted softly beneath his breath. "It was stupid of me to even think..." He hissed impatiently, screwing his face up into a bashful knot as he tossed his head back. "Nah, forget it. She's not really my type anyway."

Masaomi nearly struck the floor beside Yō's bed. "Hah-?! Hold on- Nurse! I think he hit his head when he-"

"Oh, shut up," Yō growled impatiently. "I got a little too caught up in the fact that she was a girl, okay? There, I said it. I learned my lesson." His tone altered evenly with pride. "I guess I never really expected to end up with a sister. I mean, who knew Mikoto-san would really let her stay."

Masaomi's gaze faltered doubtfully. "But did you really have to end up in the hospital to appreciate that?"

Yō sighed bleakly. "I guess so."

Masaomi smiled gratefully as the air humbled between them with their discovery. "So Nē-chan has a sweet side, too, huh?"

Yō raised his functioning arm until the hand draped in his sling could play with the black wristlet. It caused a meek smile to spread across his face when he considered that deep down, she had cared for him in his time of need. "Yeah... I guess she does."

"Do you think she'd hurt us if we told anyone?"

"Definitely."


	4. Kamikaze

**Kamikaze**

* * *

"Yeah, I just didn't want you expectin' her to be there when you got back.

Uh-huh.

No, I've got her runnin' some errands for me.

Of course, he's okay with it. What kind of- alright, that's fair.

If I hear anything before you, I'll let you know.

Alright. We'll talk later." Izumo kept his gaze locked on his darkening phone screen as he disconnected his call with Tatara, his expression adjusting with amusement as he turned it towards his king. "Well, Mikoto, it looks like everyone and their dog's worried about your opinion all of a sudden." Watching Mikoto's chest rise with his disgruntled grumble, he snickered to realize that the man hadn't raised his forearm from where he had it draped comfortably over his eyes. "Do you even have an opinion?"

Mikoto finally raised his arm, refusing to draw his tilted head from the back of the couch as he leered at his partner skeptically. "Should I?"

"Probably," Izumo calmly theorized. "You must have had something crazy going on in your head the day you made her your clansman even after you originally turned her down." His brow furrowed to mark his consideration as he watched Mikoto flop his forearm back over his eyes. "What did you see that night that made you change your mind?"

"Doesn't have anything to do with what I saw."

Izumo's wry expression noted exhaustion as his lazy half-smile spread across his face. "That's vague," he mocked dryly. "How is it I can think of a ton of reasons why she'd make a good ally, and I'm the only one here who seems to have any objections?" He sighed and leaned against the business side of his bar, his vacant gaze lingering in his king's direction without making direct eye contact. "She's a bright girl with big dreams. It's hard for her to focus on the dry stuff, but when she's into something, her eyes light up like stars." He tipped his humbly disappointed smirk towards where Mikoto began to stir. "I notice it most when she looks at you."

Mikoto shifted uncomfortably before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his spread knees. "Is that so...?" he muttered lowly.

Regardless of how casual his smile looked, Izumo diverted his attention miserably. "Of all the places that kid's drive could have taken her, I find it hard to believe that she wound up here. Now she's got it in her head that she's in your debt, so I'm guessin' her schoolwork's gonna be the last thing on her mind."

"Are you mad?"

Izumo returned his sardonic expression to where his monotonous companion awaited the connection of their gazes. "Yeah, a little," he admitted candidly. "I think it's a waste, is all. Maybe if she were a little older, she would have found a path and walked it. But right now, she's pretty impressionable. The last thing I want is to see her end up like you."

Mikoto scoffed lightly with a small smile as he closed his eyes and slowly climbed to his feet. "You say that, but I think you're just pissed off that she chose this path all on her own even if it's one you don't approve of." He cut his narrow stare Izumo's way with a sinister smirk. "Kinda funny coming from the guy who just sent her out on the front lines regardless of his _king's opinion_."

Surrendering to the truth that came as no surprise, Izumo closed his eyes and shrugged. "Ah, so you _do_ have an opinion," he admitted soundly. "But whether I like it or not, she's here now, and even I can admit that she's rather skilled in this sense. I have no doubts that we'll know everything there is to know about this guy when the night's done."

Mikoto's steps were heavy as he padded through the bar towards the front door to exit. "Gather all the info you want to, but she's right, you know," he cautioned sombrely just before stepping into the night. "He hurt one of our own. We're gonna move on him, obviously."

Izumo's grinning expression marked genuine signs of fatigue as he slumped slightly and watched his king light a cigarette on departure. "Yeah..." He lowered his gaze towards his bar, where Neirah had left her homework open in anticipation of seeking his aid when she returned. The consideration made his heart sink as he quietly shut her textbook. "I guess we will."

* * *

Neirah had never noticed how quiet the industrial side of Shizume City around her could be until she had been deafened by every racing heartbeat thundering percussively in her ears. Her jaw ached around gritted teeth as she dropped down onto the concrete and slid beneath a transport truck to get by its blockade. Seconds later, the truck's payload sprayed in all directions behind her, and her pursuer was stepping through the dispersing smoke.

A tall man, possibly in his late twenties, slicked his large palm through his cropped golden crew-cut with a devious smirk. He flexed his fingers, the scars on his skin drawing tight over his heavy frame as his one blind eye traced the same scene as his slate one. His tone was rough and flat as he rumbled his threat. "Run all you want, Red. Let's see how long you can last."

Neirah approached the skeletons of lifeless docking equipment swiftly, free-running up bowed bucket shafts until she could mount the cabin of a loader and use its height to climb onto a nearby shipping crate. '_He's right_,' she mused desperately. '_I can barely keep my distance at full strength._' She peeked over her shoulder momentarily, to watch the dark horizon behind her ignite with the combustion of volatile chemicals releasing from two shipping crates behind her. The surge of lime electricity caused the yard's lighting to flicker, and by the time the glow returned, she had lost track of him again.

With urgency adding spring to her step, she bounced up one more layer of containers and hammered the pads of her feet musically against the sheet metal beneath. '_I don't want to fail King-sama, but this man clearly has it out for the Red Clan. I didn't even have time to make it to Kusanagi-san's mark before he was on my tail._' Delicate fingertips rose to her right breast to tug her shirt collar up over the swell of her brand. '_As soon as he saw my mark, he went on the offensive before I even knew he was the one I was after. If it weren't for the predicament that I'm in now, I might've considered thanking him for doing the work for me._'

"You must be new," she heard him holler. "Why don't you come back here and introduce yourself, _Little Red_? I can be friendly for a bit."

Neirah came to a break in shipping containers, taking that opportunity as cover to leap to the ground with a delicate hiss and divert her course to the side with an elusive tumble. The golden chain wrapped around her hips clamoured against the hard landing, but he made so much noise behind her that it wouldn't have a hope at giving her away. Satisfied that she could steal a couple of moments to catch her breath, she tore her phone from her pocket and skimmed through her short assortment of contacts to find Izumo's number. "Forgive me, King-sama," she muttered apologetically. "I failed you."

She clutched her phone to her ear in anticipation of the first ring. Still, before the reassuring sound could utter, she rounded the corner of the shipping container she traversed and connected with a roadblock immediately after. She had just enough time to yelp in pain, and her phone flew from her grip, sliding out of sight in the crowded docks. When she prepared to feel humiliation for running straight into a wall during her escape, the wall crumbled and uttered an agonized curse in the process.

Neirah was moving so quickly that their bodies were launched across the vast shipping yard, out of the loading docks entirely while she approached the city as instructed. The paved plummet bruised her tanned flesh as she flopped and rolled, only once noticing that she wasn't the only one. By the time the spinning stopped, she was ready for a hot bath at home, but the way the night was progressing, she would be happy to make it home to Tatara at all.

A feminine groan filled her aching throat as she stifled her need to cry out her discomfort. Her feet didn't want to support her weight when she stood, but when her dizzy mind recalled the sound of another human's suffering, she shot upright and began to scour the shipyard. "Wait, wasn't there-?" Not far from the cap she had knocked from their crown upon impact laid a figure collapsed motionlessly on their back. She gasped before darting towards the silhouette sprawled on the concrete, her heart seizing beneath her chest despite adrenaline pressuring her to their side.

She dropped to her knees and quickly examined the body, her brow furrowing as she did. Luckily, she didn't see any traces of blood standing out against fair skin. The man before her didn't look to be much older than she was, but furthermore, even beneath the veil of dark bangs and his sweater hood, she could tell that he was unconscious.

'_I can't just leave him here,_' she griped internally. '_It won't take long for that Strain's rampage to catch up to us._'

"Hey. Hey, wake up," Neirah gently begged. She took the man up and knocked his hood from around his face so that she could rest her cool hands against his cheeks, hoping to jolt him conscious. "Please don't do this to me. I didn't mean to bump into you." Her gentle plea was filled with heartache when she thought about her curse returning in force. Only her clansmen seemed to be strong enough to challenge the bleak fate she'd delivered, but that left the boy in her lap vulnerable to suffer.

She turned away to the sound of another frustrated crash, and she listened to the humour fading from her enemy as thin strands of electricity began to dance from near the docks once more.

"Come on out now, Little Red." Another bang erupted. "You're starting to piss me off!"

Urgently, she looked back at the boy in her lap in the bright concrete yard. '_I wouldn't be able to carry him to safety, and if I head back into the city, I'll just bring this monster with me. I can't risk anyone else getting caught in the crossfire, but I'm at my limit as it is._' She turned her desperate gaze towards the shipping containers bursting into fragments in front of her. '_Kusanagi-san told me not to engage him, and I lost my phone when I came out of the docks. So how? How am I going to-_'

"Hn... D-damn that hurts."

Neirah flinched, half in delight, when her victim started to stir in her arms. "Oh, wow, you're awake," she announced almost giddily. Her cheeks flushed over the edges of her smile as she watched his dark eyes open. But as soon as she caught the sight of their enemy approaching, her tone grew harsh with command. "Great, on your feet! You need to leave now."

The bright lighting of the yard reflected off narrowly parted ebony eyes, and it seemed like he had a hard time adjusting to the fluorescent light once his hood lowered, the beak of his hat discarded. In place of what was lost, he raised his flattened palm and squinted at the woman before him with great scrutiny. Then, when he comprehended that she was a woman, his face ignited in bashful flame, and he scrambled away from her touch. "W-what the-?! Who- w-who are you?! When'd you get here?!"

"Minutiae," Neirah hissed nervously to the sound of their approaching doom. "We can make introductions when we aren't fleeing for our lives."

"Lives?!" He gagged on the pressure she put on his collar as she grabbed his hood and started to drag him through the boatyard.

"Can you not walk?" she demanded irately. "Running would be preferred, but you're kind of complicating things, as it stands, and you're not even doing that much."

Flustered couldn't even begin to describe her prisoner as he flailed in a desperate attempt to free himself from her commanding grasp. Then, suddenly, he seemed to have remembered why they'd collided in the first place. "Wait... wasn't I-?" He yelped his alarm the moment the shipping containers exploded before his eyes, sending shrapnel in every which direction. "Oh yeah, now I remember," he rushed out brokenly.

"I found you," the eager Strain purred sadistically. "Come out and play, Red. This game of hide-and-seek isn't nearly as fun as what me and your little pal played earlier today."

Catching his breath, the dragged man turned curiously to face the woman at his back who halted her progression and roughly released him. To his observance, she stared vacantly forward, a calm expression on her face even as he sensed the tension exude from her body. She considered the Strain's words, lingering on the feeling of flames rolling under her skin with her swelling fury. "I don't know what you're doing all the way out here this late at night," she stated evenly. "But, I'm sorry I brought this fate upon you."

"H-huh?!" he rattled out nervously. "What does that even mean?"

A determined grunt in her chest, she whirled to face her opponent with a livid scowl. "This isn't your fight. It's ours! So I need you to stand up and get as far from this place as you can!"

The man scrambled backwards for a moment and watched in disbelief as she passed him to approach the Strain they'd both been intent on escaping moments before. When she turned, he caught the sight of a sizeable tribal tattoo on the woman's partially exposed chest, and it had made him worry that he'd gotten tangled up in some kind of turf war. The mark almost seemed misplaced on her tan skin in black and red ink. From what he could stereotype, the small-framed woman clattering in high-heeled boots across the concrete yard didn't look like she belonged in a gang.

Shaking his senses back to the present from where they'd fixated on her inked bosom, he crawled forward a step and tried to make a defence to her outlandish claim. "Are you crazy!? That guy just blew up half the harbour, and you're going to challenge him?!"

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Neirah's voice as she slipped her black studded bangle from her wrist and used it to tie back her hair. "Yes," she rumbled firmly. She looped the band around the thick tail a couple of times before slowing her decisive actions and letting her fingers caress the gems lining one side. The boy lingering at her hip was inconvenient, but the truth was, she was there with every hope of taking revenge for someone who might have meant more to her than she initially let on. "He hurt someone dear to me."

Her sidekick dropped to his hands and knees to deny her interest, all but begging her to reconsider. "He's gonna hurt _you_!"

Neirah's burning azure gaze flashed as she buried one hand in her pocket, pulling out a golden kunai and weaving it through her fingers. Then, when she ripped her arm back, the chain around her hips began to unfurl until the second dart sliced through the air and into the palm that halted its trajectory. "I'm not helpless," she ordered dynamically in a hard whisper.

"That's more _like it_!" the Strain thundered enthusiastically. "Let's have some fun. Come at me with all you've got, Little Red!"

Neirah's brilliant gaze flashed with shades of violet as passion scorched behind her dedicated sights. "Like I said, you're complicating things," she commanded frigidly. "Please leave."

The young man shuddered in utter disbelief. "B-but you-!"

The Strain's expression ignited with sadistic delight as he lunged towards the woman's charge, his heavy combat boots striking the concrete with thundering claps. "I want to see if you're any more fun to play with!"

She stopped her charge to the sound of their very different sentiments colliding, and when she had, her sights narrowed on her opponent, her focus sharpening. "I already told you, I'm not helpless."

From beneath his dishevelled raven bangs, he watched the shipyard ignite in crimson flame, and the air pressure shifting around him toppled him backwards. The chain the woman clutched between delicate hands glowed white-hot and reflected the blinding spotlights of the yard. Additionally, her entire body came to life with the eerie crawl of small red flames flickering gently like underwater vegetation drifting with the tide. As tight as her body was, the blazes were peaceful as they lent their support. But the terror was that a woman his age was on fire at all.

A part of him genuinely wanted to obey her, but a second part hadn't believed what he'd been seeing. Instead of following Neirah's cautionary request, he wound up paralyzed by the unlikelihood that he was even a part of reality anymore. He felt like the moment the two beasts before him collided, he'd wake from his bed in a cold sweat in a mess of tangled sheets. With that surreal psychosis giving him a false sense of security, he remained to watch the fantasy battle unfold.

With her target nearing, Neirah's heel powered into her agile dodge, leaving her opponent to chase after her side stepped back handspring. Once she had gotten his trajectory diverted from where she left an innocent civilian, she began her work.

She slammed her foot down on the chain to shorten it as he approached, launching the dart at one end towards him. When he ducked to one side, she rotated, releasing the lengthened chain and wrapping it around her taut body until she launched the resulting momentum. When he leapt over the assault, she growled lightly and walked over her current position, careful to land on her chain before releasing her second dart towards his turned back. He had barely managed to escape the result, and while he was staggered, she stepped off the glowing links and reclaimed one dart to pitch the other straight from her shoulder.

Finally, blood spray reflected the bright lights around them, and before he could whirl his livid expression to face her surprise, he came face to face with her sadistic smirk instead. She recalled her weapon, let the chain curl around her neck and stalled her active darts for a moment to mock his efforts. "Too bad," she purred seductively. "It looks like you were much better at hide-and-seek."

When the furious Strain lunged toward her with a frustrated snarl, she dodged and rolled across the ground, unravelling her weapon in the process. She braced herself low to the earth and slid backwards into a standstill, keeping her sights in line with her target. Once he returned with recovered bearing, she circled her body with the weight of the spinning darts and lurched on the offensive. She weaved the knives skillfully around her whimsical figure like she was dancing with the blades, an air of focused peace flooding her calm expression as she continued to chip away at the brute's defence. Every slice was a symphony, tearing at sinewy threads until colour spilt onto their bright canvas in brilliant shades of crimson. Maybe she wasn't as thorough as her king. There may be traces left behind, blood, bone, and one other thing; fear. By the time she finished with the monster before her, she had vowed he would never threaten her family again.

She winced with the sheer pressure of his charged strikes batting away at her darts, and it had become hard to keep him from getting a hold of them. She knew that once he did, she'd be helpless, so she kept her distance. She reached underneath her soft ponytail and withdrew a free dart from just above her tailbone, recalling the back of her wrist to the kiss of her lips before elegantly launching it towards the startled beast. The satisfying sounds of his fury had tumbled out in sharp hisses as he dropped to the ground with a dull thud and attempted to draw the blade from where she'd buried it in his collar. When he had, he whipped it back at her with far less precision, and she easily beat it away with the rotational chain field.

Enraged, he charged to a slew of undecipherable curses. Neirah met his challenge, her chain between steady hands as she approached and ignited her body in a deep crimson glow until her efforts saw the links boil. She launched one dart past his figure, allowing him to triumph in its avoidance, then, she wrapped the rings around the lamppost behind him. In one smooth action, she leapt past the pressure of his strike, her burning gaze fixed and focused on her weapon as her toes caught his chin. The moment was right when his head snapped back beneath the pressure of her kick. Afterwards, she heaved on the chain with all of her might as she came over his body. As a result, the lamppost almost immediately melted in two with a jagged slice reflecting the pattern of her chain links. She tore the chain back to burden the low end of the post to fall in his direction, and when she landed her first foot on its collapse, it flipped into the back of his head.

She skipped her manacle like a rope to keep it from tangling and then rolled out of her leap across the yard until she'd firmly braced herself between the unruly Strain and the man who had refused to do as commanded before the fight began. She'd been just about to scold him when she realized that the dumbfounded look on his face must have been pretty similar to what was on her face the first time that she watched her king do battle.

She peeked over her shoulder with a small smile, moments from reassuring him that she had the situation under control when their attention drew to the sound of the Strain backhanding the light post away from where it struck him. Her hesitant gaze widened to the sight of his crown gushing blood, and despite the apparent damage, the man began to chuckle.

The sky split to the amused Strain's roar as he mocked her effort like it had been insignificant. "Is that all you've got?!"

Neirah took a moment to cease her trembling, steeling her will to his intimidation as she tightened her guard. '_I understand now,_' she thought nervously. '_This must be how he managed to hurt Chitose-kun, who fights close-range. It doesn't seem to matter how much damage I cause him. He still gets back up._' She narrowed her gaze on the series of lacerations causing him to mark a trail wherever he meandered. '_This man's will is iron. The only reason I've lasted this long is that he hasn't gotten a hold of me yet._' Her body started to shudder when he glowered at her maniacally and licked his bleeding teeth.

She powered off her heels and darted into combat in an attempt to draw his attention to her and not her stunned guest. '_I can't risk going back through town with him chasing me. He's too dangerous._' She ducked beneath his strike and stabbed one of her knives into his taut calf upon passing. She tumbled around his feet, wrapping her chain around his legs to bind them before leaping up with a sharp tug. '_I have to stop him here._'

She was satisfied when he collapsed, but as soon as he did, he tore her dart from within his leg like he hadn't felt a thing. Deceiving him into thinking she might go in for another close stab, she flopped to one side and flipped backwards, the first rotation causing her searing shackle to catch him in his chin with a satisfying sizzle. Unfortunately, that impact hadn't forced him to drop her knife as anticipated.

She yelped when her second rotation was interrupted by his hard tug, and her hands jerked out from under her landing. Crashing to the ground had distracted her, and she hadn't thought to let go of her weapon in the time it took him to pull. With a hard jerk, he drew her too close for comfort and she could smell the melted flesh of his scorched palm as it gripped her crown.

Sharp fingernails dug into his wrist as she ground her teeth and clamoured for release while the pressure of his grasp grew unbearable. All she could see in her mind was the sight of the shipping containers exploding beneath his empowered touch, and worry began to flutter her heart. Her confidence had fled her, and as a result of her gloating, her skull was about to be crushed.

"You reds are all the same," he nearly snarled. "And, you'll all die the same."

She recoiled to the stench of blood on his breath and tried to writhe out of his grasp. "You say that like it's a bad thing," she hissed defiantly. "But I don't see it that way." Finally, the pressure became too much, and she let out an agonized scream.

"See what you want," the Strain spat vehemently. "When you're dead, we'll see if that opinion still stands."

Their audience scrambled forward and climbed to his feet with a worrisome furrow in his brow. His fist tightened like he wanted to throw it, but the way his feet angled noted that he was also ready to flee the possibility of the Strain's redirected wrath. "H-hey! Let her go!"

Neirah could hear the boy behind her faintly clamouring when he realized she might be in danger, but all she wanted was for him to run. The guilt brought her more pain than the Strain ever could, and if she could have watched him escape, to know he was safe, she would have felt the slightest bit vindicated. '_Please... please run away..._' Such was her curse. She was starting to understand that it would never work in her favour. Everything she touched fell to misfortune.

If there were a chance that she survived her impending injuries, she wanted to be able to convey as much information to her king as possible about their enemy. She took his combat boots into account, and the military-style of rags remaining of his weathered clothing. She didn't know how much that was going to help Izumo, though. "What do you have against us?"

The grip on her skull seemed to loosen for a moment as the brute snorted and then laughed. "Who me? Absolutely nothing." Her frightened gaze widened nervously to the sound of his easy denial. "Actually, I'm a fan."

The pair flinched together when a stray baseball cap suddenly struck the Strain, and the moment it flopped to the ground at his feet, he tipped his impatient leer towards the man who'd finally escaped paralysis. "The hell is this?"

The boy shuddered, recoiling like he was ready to bolt the moment he'd given the woman a chance to escape. Otherwise, he'd accepted that he wasn't going to be much help to a fantasy woman who could light herself on _fire_. "L-let her go, obviously."

Neirah started to struggle harder in hopes that she could release herself in time to save an idiot. "What are you doing!? I told you to run!" As livid as she was, she quietly wondered why it was always the pretty ones bent on saving the day.

The Strain lost himself to another fit of laughter. "Are you seeing this? Man, do I love a hero," he mocked sardonically. "Okay, okay, you win. I'll let her go."

"What?!" they exclaimed in unison.

"Psyche!"

Neirah cried out in alarm when the Strain slammed his foot into the asphalt, shattering it beneath in a destructive neon trail that crashed right into the innocent man to stand up to him. "No!" She squealed with the return of intense pressure threatening to split her crown. "Leave him alone!"

"Don't get distracted, Red," he cautioned her in a low rumble. "You're the only one I want tonight."

"That's my line."

Neirah rolled her gaze back and winced when she tried to stare into the bright lights of the harbour as they broke around an approaching shadow. In the next moment, the silver glow illuminated red, and a powerful airborne axe-kick was dropping into the Strain's raised arm. When it impacted, she felt the devastating snap of his joint against her head, and in the same instant, he released her. Her body was left weak from her battle fatigue, and she feared the fall would incapacitate her, but before she hit the ground, careful arms were coming around her protectively and jolting their combined figures out of harm's way.

When she regained her senses and looked down into the comforting red glow of the forearm to defend her, she heard the sound of Masaomi's voice at her back. "Don't worry, Nē-chan. I've got you."

"Dewa? But, how-?"

He adjusted his attention towards her, the bright reflection of the dock lighting fading from the lenses of his dark-framed glassed as he smiled. "When you tried to call Kusanagi-san earlier, he figured something bad might've happened, so he called me to see if you'd stopped by the hospital. And when the reports started to roll in about the harbour, he ran damage control."

After a momentary observation, her full gaze had torn through the night to where she met the sight of Yō braced solidly between them and the battle-weary Strain. "Then that means..." Her heart fluttered to the view of Yō's left arm flexed by his side, his wrist endowed with the gift she'd left him earlier that night.

Yō's grin twisted as he braced himself to defend his companion despite one of his arms still being tied up in a sling. He was more of a leg-fighter, anyway. "You're a pretty nasty guy, huh? What kind of man stalks around picking fights with girls?"

"You again!?" The Strain lurched to life with a wild look in his burning gaze. "Come back for more?"

Yō didn't seem threatened. "You see, this day was supposed to be all about me, and, honestly, I was pretty into that." His expression hardened slightly in warning as he kicked back his leg, bright flames slicing through the rubble of the shipping yard towards the swift Strain. He'd learned from his previous mistakes not to get too close. "But it's not gonna mean anything if everyone isn't there, so I'll be taking Nē-chan with me."

Neirah's cheeks flushed rosy even as she watched the Strain dodge her companion's attacks, forcing Yō on his toes to dodge actively.

Calming for a moment after one of his strikes had connected with the enraged beast, Yō's expression softened as he lowered his averted gaze that wasn't quite brave enough to face her just yet. "Sorry, Tsukiyo... I guess I didn't take you seriously, at first." After gaining confidence from observing the way his clenched fist tightened beneath his matching bangle, he slowly peeked over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. "But, I get it now. How about when we get back to base, we start over?"

She almost laughed at how strange his sincerity made him look. "That's alright," she teased in a near-whisper. "I think things are just fine between us, don't you?"

"Yeah…" Outside of his control, a guilty wave tugged at his heartstrings, and his fist began to quake. "Just hang tight while Dewa and I wrap this up. Then we'll talk."

"This suits me just fine," the wild Strain thundered. "This way, I can destroy three of you at once!"

Yō braced for the impending strike mere moments before the Strain was knocked off his path by a dedicated right hook encased in the most brilliant flames they'd ever seen. Just as Mikoto threw his shoulder into the strike, his opponent's trajectory redirected and illuminated in a destructive blaze.

Neirah was marvelling so keenly that she had almost forgotten something important, and as the fire approached the shattered rock fragments left behind from her battle, she panicked. "No, wait! There's-!" She whimpered to the deafening sound of the Strain crashing into the side of the main boathouse, and as the smoke cleared, her heart sank. She scrambled out of Masaomi's arms and started to run a couple of steps before her pace deteriorated. She dropped to her knees with a weak mewl. "There... there was someone else..."

"Looking for this?"

Neirah whirled to face the sight of Tatara with her unlikely partner draped over his shoulders. In response, Tatara smiled and tipped his gaze to where the man was hiding his flushed and mortified expression. "I found him lying around in the yard and thought maybe he might have wanted to live through the night."

She almost burst into relieved tears. "I'm so glad..."

Izumo raised his hand from his pocket to hold it to his face over his cigarette while his deep inhale caused the embers to stir at the end. He opened his eyes as he withdrew the butt and exhaled a cloud of smoky relief into the stilling night. "That was a little overkill," he droned impishly. "He was barely hangin' on as it was."

"He'll be alright," Mikoto rumbled. "He's one tough bastard to have put up as much of a fight as he did."

To the sound of sirens approaching the commotion, Izumo returned his cigarette to his face and clamped it between his teeth. "Those guys are gettin' rusty." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, interested in the sight of flashing strobes illuminating the street. "What do you think? Should we leave 'im to SCEPTRE4? If he survived, that is."

Mikoto slowly turned to where Neirah's distracted attention was conversing with their resident peace-keeper, and his spirits lifted slightly. "I think we got our point across."

Catching the sight of lazy footsteps approaching, Neirah quickly shifted to look up at her approaching king and his second, her heart fluttering anxiously. "King-sama, I-"

Mikoto denied her sentiment with an aggravated snort. "Don't call me that," he commanded plainly. "Mikoto's fine."

"Mikoto-sama..."

He heaved an exasperated sigh as he leaned into his lighter to ignite the end of his cigarette. "Fine, whatever," he grumbled. "You alright, kid?"

Neirah slumped over with a bitter groan. "I'm fine," she admitted, nearly disappointed. "My pride hurts a little, though."

Izumo laughed as he leant over, picked her up by her forearm and helped her to steady herself. "There she goes again."

"You told me three important things," she scolded bitterly upon dusting herself off. "Don't engage the enemy, call if you're in trouble, and come right back home if things get too tough. I didn't do any of those things!"

"Wrong," he purred fondly. "You did call. And thanks to you holdin' him back for as long as you did, we got here just in time for the finale." Izumo smiled and dropped his palm onto the top of her head to ruffle her shaggy bangs. "You're safe. That's all that matters."

She dropped her gaze cynically. "You people and your contagious positivity."

"If that's the only thing that you pick up from us, I'd be okay with that." He sucked at the end of his light as he turned his attention towards Tatara. "I see you've been making friends. You pick 'im up all the way out here or d' that Strain chase you further than I thought?"

Curiously, she tipped her head to one side. "Actually, I never caught his name," she admitted sheepishly. "We kind of just bumped into each other while we were both trying to get away from the Strain."

"Interesting..."

Neirah fondly smiled towards the sight. "But, to be honest, I might not have made it long enough for you to show up if it weren't for him. He distracted the Strain right when I was at my breaking point. It was a pretty brave thing for a normal high school student to do."

"You mean pretty stupid," Mikoto razzed dryly.

Izumo sniggered to the sight of Neirah turning and sticking her tongue out towards her king boldly while she thought he wasn't looking. "Gee, doesn't that sound familiar," he mused playfully. "Don't go getting any bright ideas, Mikoto."

"Dunno what you're talking about."

Tatara tilted over his shoulder to face the man catching a ride on his back. It was difficult for the boy to try and comprehend the events that had just turned his life upside down. "So, do you have a name?" he sang spiritedly. "Or should we just call you Hero-kun?"

The man diverted his gaze, picking up the sight of his charred baseball cap as he did, and under the scrutiny of HOMRA's elite, he muttered a name they'd all familiarize themselves within due time. "It's, ah… Bandō."

The tone in his voice sounded like surrender, and it filled with hesitant reluctance. Neirah wasn't sure what that meant for them, but she was grateful for his company that night she'd been reckless. "I don't know, I kind of liked Hero-kun."

"What's with you and names?" Izumo growled. "Why can't you use 'em properly?" He impatiently groaned when she poked her tiny pink tongue out at him next.

Saburōta raised his staggered gaze to meet hers for a fleeting moment before the passion in her eyes had his attention scurrying away doubtfully. He wished his face wasn't so hot, indicating that his guilty sentiment was probably noticeable on his cheeks. Before his very eyes was a beautiful woman who could light herself on fire—_what a strange night_, he thought.

* * *

"So, what did you find out?"

From where he leaned over the railing beneath a pale ring of smoke, Izumo turned his sights on Tatara as the man entered his presence. "About?"

"The Strain, obviously," Tatara teased with a soft giggle. "Wasn't Nei-chan supposed to gather information?"

Izumo snorted dismissively and returned his gaze to the sun rising on the horizon. "Well, seeing as he's currently in SCEPTRE4's possession after all that, we know he's one tough son-of-a-bitch," he muttered discouragingly. "Other than that, what she did get out of him doesn't make any sense yet."

Tatara joined him, laying his palms on the railing alongside his comrade. "Nei-chan says that he attacked her before she even realized he was the one she was supposed to be hunting."

"That's because we were obviously late to the party," he added analytically. "Seems like someone's got their eye on us recently. Now the only question left is who." Izumo turned his dreary expression toward where Tatara had begun to laugh. "It's funny, is it?"

"No, no," Tatara defended lightly. "It's just; you're acting so serious. Like there's some big conspiracy to blame."

"Didn't say there wasn't," Izumo justified. He looked down to where his friend had reached out and laid his hand on his shoulder before returning his gaze to Tatara's kind reassurance.

"Come on, Kusanagi-san. Now really isn't the time to worry about that. Let's just have a good time for Chitose's birthday now that we're all back together."

Izumo sighed and allowed Tatara's gentle touch to guide him into the building. "Totsuka, I swear, if Neirah ends up with anything out of this, I hope it's that upbeat attitude of yours."

Tatara smiled at the man positively. "You really are starting to act like her big brother, you know," he ribbed bluntly. The two paused for a moment as the early morning rays filtered through the veranda and shone across the floor against the wall where Neirah and Yō had been sleeping off their conflict side-by-side. As they braced their resting heads against one another, their matching bangles opposed each other in their laps, and the sight made Tatara beam delight. "I told you, didn't I? She just needed somewhere to belong."

"And you think that's here?"

Humbled for a moment, Tatara hesitated before turning to face the man over his shoulder. "I know it is," he announced positively.

Izumo hesitated and then returned his gaze to the sight of their slumbering companions sprawled out on the floor, comforted in times of turmoil by each other's company. "Maybe you're right," he conceded fondly. "I guess I worry about the lot of you when you get careless, even Mikoto."

"But Nei-chan is a girl," he instigated.

Izumo dropped one hand onto the top of Tatara's head with a playful snort as he stuffed the other in his pocket upon passing. "She's tougher than you are, Totsuka."

"Not nice!"

Izumo's fond beam assured the boy he had only been teasing, and then shortly after their gazes connected, he redirected the culmination towards the coffee table nearby. From where they stood, they could see Saburōta lying with his face buried in his arms. When the sun hit his bangs just right, they highlighted with dark, ashy brown hues that generally appeared black beneath his layers, and even fast asleep, his brow knotted like the sunlight somehow disturbed him. Despite the hood draped over his forehead, closing him to the outside world, he looked somewhat peaceful.

"Do you think he'll stay?"

Izumo heaved exhaustion as Tatara stepped by his side. "We've been picking up a lot of kids lately. First Kamamoto, then Neirah, and now this. I feel like my bar's turnin' into an after-school program." He hitched his hand on his hip with an amused snort. "What is it about that guy that has everyone flockin' towards him?" He turned to Tatara with a playful smirk. "Come on. You should know this one, Totsuka. You were one of 'em."

Tatara snickered under his breath as he kept his voice low in consideration of their slumbering companions. "I think it's different for everyone," he admitted vaguely. "But it still makes me nervous. The test, that is. When Nei-chan took it, I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest."

Izumo smiled with understanding. "I wouldn't worry about that too much anymore," he educated calmly.

"King figured it out?"

"Not quite," he admitted. "I've been doin' some digging, and I think I've got an idea about how all this works. Y' see, I don't think Mikoto has a choice in the matter. I'm pretty sure that, in the end, it's up to the slate."

"The Dresden Slate?" Tatara pried.

"Yeah... The slate won't give just anyone power. So, in a way, if someone's burned up by Mikoto's flame, they probably had it comin'," Izumo reassured supportively. "I've got a feelin' that our mighty king's just a messenger for somethin' a little bit bigger than our cozy HOMRA."

Tatara's humble smile diverted towards the sight of their friends sound asleep around the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on the view of the only visible clan mark among them as it rose and fell with Neirah's steady breath. "Something bigger," he uttered silently. "It's almost hard to believe that there could be anything bigger than King."

Izumo tipped his fond gaze over his shoulder to encourage Tatara to follow his lead across the room. "Let's just have a good time now that we're all back together."

With a softening expression, Tatara smiled and stepped over the bodies littering the floor to catch up to him. "Yeah, good idea, Kusanagi-san," he hummed fondly. "Let's do that."


	5. Knowing

**Knowing**

* * *

_**July 18th, 2008 4:53 pm**_

Neirah's feet were dragging as she walked through Shizume's streets, fanning her face with her mobile pressed to her ear while she tried to focus on the conversation sounding over the line. "No, I'm okay. Really. I know that I don't come home much anymore, but I promise I'm doing just fine." She sighed exasperation as her aunt's worrisome prattling continued to fill her ear.

"Neirah, your father is worried. He hasn't heard from you either. Are you still going to school? Where are you living? Are you getting enough to eat?"

Neirah's pace slowed as her expression dimmed. Soon, she stopped walking in the blistering heat altogether and lingered in the sun's bright rays. Her near-whisper almost failed to make it to her aunt's ear. "Papa called?"

"O-of course, he did, honey..."

Her fist clenched by her side for a moment when she heard the sound of her aunt's voice beginning to crack.

"He's your father. He's worried about you, is all. You're too young to be out in the world on your own. Neirah, please come home."

Neirah was stricken with guilt, immediately understanding that her aunt felt responsible for her departure. "Mari-san, this isn't your fault." She could feel the impact of her aunt's hitching breath over the phone, but she couldn't take back the way she felt. "Please don't worry about me anymore. I know things have been hard for you lately."

"That shouldn't be your-!"

"I have to go now," Neirah interrupted quietly. "Tell Papa I'm fine. I love you."

Neirah's spirits dropped with her phone from her temple as she returned it to the side pocket of her schoolbag. She shouldn't have been surprised that her family was trying to get in touch after she'd worked so hard to avoid their messages. But the call had staggered her. She never told her aunt, but her father hadn't tried to contact her since she'd moved to Shizume City. "I'm surprised he even remembers who I am," she whispered vacantly.

When Neirah raised her gaze, she filled her sights with the comforting view of her new stomping grounds. It was her favourite place to be because it came with many distractions capable of keeping her mind off of her betrayal. It was common for Tatara to be there instead of home, and she preferred to be by his side when life had her down. Something about his uplifting personality filled her with warmth. Although, under the relentless beat of the sun's humid rays, she wondered if that was what she truly needed. She couldn't remember a summer that had started as hot as that one had, and it was only just the beginning.

Izumo raised his gaze to the door where a gentle bell sang the entrance of their resident hunter, who had made her way into their midst still in her high school uniform. It was too hot for her to wander all the way home and change first. "Well, look who's on the prowl," Izumo pestered. "You look pretty girly in that get-up."

Neirah ignored his remark and dropped her schoolbag on the floor against the bar front before dragging her feet towards Tatara. He was sitting on the couch across the way, minding his own business before she intruded. She barely acknowledged his fond greeting before she was flopping face-first into his lap with a desperate groan.

Izumo's expression hardened with irritation as he turned from what he was doing to lay both of his palms flat against the bar. "Listen here, little lady," he scolded. "This isn't your personal playground. I run a business out of here, in case you forgot."

"Too hot." Realizing that her muffled murmur was almost incomprehensible through Tatara's thigh, she tipped her chin back and heaved an exhausted sigh. "Hawt…" she stifled through a yawn.

Izumo's expression clouded petulantly. "Too hot for what, common courtesy?"

Tatara lightly laughed as Neirah reburied her face with a bleak growl. "Take it easy on her, Kusanagi-san. Summer break just started today." He raised his hand and stroked her hair back out of her face, pulling it away from her nape so that she could receive some cooling comfort from his actions. "You've been working her pretty hard lately. On top of school, it's probably starting to catch up to her."

Izumo was standing on the business side of the bar by the time their gazes met, picking up after the girl despite his earlier objection. "She's gotta earn her keep somehow." Being nosey, he opened up her bag and pulled out her schoolbooks. "I might not keep her so busy if I thought she'd spend her time more productively with her studies."

Neirah rolled off of Tatara's lap with a discomforted whimper. "Tat-chan, why is your lap so hot?"

"What's this now?" he teased. "When it's cold out, that's your favourite place." A musical giggle interrupted her discomforted moans as she flopped around like a beached fish while trying to get comfortable. "You can't handle the heat or the cold, can you?"

She flopped over on the other side of the couch and draped her hair over the arm, wishing the leather against her nape was colder than it was. "I blame King-sama. Ever since I joined the Red Clan, my body's temperature control has been all over the place."

"You hear that, King?" Tatara shouted towards the bar. "You broke Nei-chan."

"The brat was broken before she got here." Mikoto rumbled his rebuttal casually from his place near Izumo and caused the bartender a low chuckle marking his amusement.

"He's not wrong," Izumo agreed. He jerked the textbooks away from their nosey king like just his gaze might set them ablaze. "And just because it's hot doesn't mean you don't have to do your homework. From the looks of it, you have plenty."

"I don't do economics without Dewa-kun," she refuted.

"Neirah, you have to do some of this for yourself. Otherwise, you're not going to learn anything."

"Don't want to learn. Want winter." She began to calm down once Tatara removed her shoes and proceeded to take her dainty socked-foot up between his hands, working out the aches that had developed over the last few days. "I'll do it later, but not… without him," she barely articulated.

The effort made Izumo drop her books on the bar with an agitated growl. "Totsuka, stop spoiling her. She's nearly impossible to have a conversation with when you're doing that."

"What? She's been on her feet a lot, and that's probably why she's so grumpy."

Mikoto cut his lazy leer towards where Izumo was posturing through his frustrations. "Relax," he rumbled callously. "What are you, her old man?"

"I could deal without your attitude on top of everything else," Izumo scolded. "You started this. The least you could do is take some responsibility for her bad grades." He only grew more frustrated when his king brushed off his remark without the slightest guilt. He turned his attention to Neirah's distant gaze as it stared out the window, his brow creasing with more profound concern. Noticing that she was in desperate need of a distraction, he pressed the matter and offered his assistance in place of her absent companions. "You don't need Dewa for history. I can help you with that."

Her expression darkened with defiance as she continued to stare out the window deep in thought. Usually, she would find comfort in their company, but despite Izumo's attempts at distracting her, she hadn't been able to abandon her bleak train of thought. "Not now, Onii-san."

Izumo was just about ready to go to war when some more familiar faces joined them. The delight in his tone was palpable. "Oh, would you look who's here."

Masaomi stilled in the doorway next to Yō and contemplated escape, or rather the likelihood of being caught if he bolted. "W-wait? Does that mean..." He turned to where Neirah was lying on the couch with Tatara, and he began to panic. "School's out for the summer, right? Surely Nē-chan doesn't need my help right now." He recoiled when Izumo offered him her economics textbook with a stony expression. "B-but Kusanagi-san!"

"It's summer vacation," Yō whined. "We were gonna go to the beach to celebrate. We just stopped by to pick up Nē-chan."

"She can go once she finishes her summer assignments," Izumo refuted. "Her marks are comin' down, and I won't let all our goofing off be a part of that."

"I wouldn't really call it _goofing off_," Saburōta defended lightly. "I mean, we'll probably only be gone for a couple of hours. Can't she work on her assignments when she gets back?"

Tatara turned his attention from their gathering when he felt Neirah's relaxed toes curl beneath her thigh-high socks between his hands. The reaction caused his brow to knot with consideration. "Hm? Is something wrong, Nei-chan?"

"No, I'm fine." Neirah's face ignited with rage when Tatara's kind concern forced all eyes to turn to her, and the dynamic of their gathering had altered in her defence. As a result, she tore her foot straight up out of Tatara's lap, indifferent about the show of panty the boys were flashed in the process. "Why does everyone get anxious when he says that?" she rumbled impatiently. Without a second thought, she reached behind her and withdrew her single throwing dart from the waistline of her skirt, pitching it across the bar towards Izumo's liquor shelf. "I said I'm fine!"

"Wah?! She keeps a knife in her skirt?!" Saburōta clamoured meekly. "T-that's pretty intense!"

Izumo launched past where Mikoto was sitting casually, nearly barrelling the man over as he reached out and narrowly captured the tip of her throwing knife to keep it from shattering his stock. "Damn it, Neirah! Not inside!" He straightened with the knife tip still between his fingers as he watched her grab her schoolbag and storm out of the bar, beating her shoulders into Masaomi and Yō in the process.

"Ah! Nē-chan!" Rikio hollered after the woman, but if she heard him, she completely ignored his call. "That was kinda weird…"

Tatara interrupted the crowd with a breathless wheeze as he attempted to catch her before she was out of sight, her shoes still in his hand. "Nei-chan! You forgot your shoes!" When he stepped outside the front entrance to realize that she'd already vanished, he groaned lightly and dropped his disappointed gaze. "I guess I'll bring them home when I go."

After watching Tatara slink back through the doorway with a gentle shake of his head, Izumo's brow creased. "Man, her attitude's been crap lately," he muttered conclusively. "She's in a rebellious phase, huh?"

Mikoto closed his eyes to defy the burning leer that his second passed his way. "Don't look at me. I woulda burned the place down."

Saburōta's cheeks flushed as he watched the doorway where Neirah departed not long before. "W-was it something I said?"

"I don't think so," Rikio kindly reassured him. He slicked his palm through his lengthened blonde locks and sighed his disappointment. "The heat's probably getting to her."

"Speaking of the heat," Yō instigated. "Do you melt in the summer?"

"Oh yeah, I noticed he was looking a little leaner," Tatara agreed.

"A _little_?" Izumo chirped. "He's like a completely different person. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't watch it happen with my own eyes."

Rikio rubbed his nape sheepishly. "See, I don't have much of an appetite in heat like this." He turned over his shoulder in hopes that Neirah would come running back to pick up her shoes, at the very least. If they had known her intentions, they could have tried to stop her. "I hope Nē-chan is okay. I don't think I've ever seen her act like that before."

"Maybe she didn't want to come to the beach with us," Masaomi quietly theorized. "I mean, why would she when she knows Chitose is just going to give her that awkward stare-down the whole time."

"Screw you," Yō growled impatiently with a guilty blush. "Nē-chan and I get along just fine whether I stare or not."

"It's true, and that's the strange part," Izumo calmly theorized. "She really doesn't seem to get flustered with any of you boys around even if you do act like dogs."

"How did this become all about me?!" Yō barked impatiently. "I wasn't the one nagging her about homework on the first day of summer! What's the deal anyway? Tsukiyo tries really hard, and you keep pushing her even harder." Yō was shocked by the gentle pressure of Tatara's hand on his shoulder, and when he turned to face the man, the room went silent.

"Kusanagi-san is just trying to help," Tatara reassured him kindly. "She has a lot on her mind right now, and if she doesn't keep busy this summer, it might really affect her health."

Yō didn't seem convinced. "You mean like it affects Kamamoto?"

Tatara snickered and shook his head. "I don't think summer affects anyone like it does Kamamoto." He let his hand slip free of Yō's shoulder and turned to face Izumo with Neirah's shoes in his other hand. "I'll go talk to her and see if I can't get her to calm down. But if she agrees to talk about it, you should stop pressuring her to work harder. She'll burn herself out. Let her enjoy at least some of her summer break, okay, Kusanagi-san? Going to the beach could be a distraction too."

Izumo slumped against the bar with a faint sigh. "Alright, Totsuka, you win. I'll lighten up a little, but you're both gonna be in deep shit if September rolls around and her assignments still aren't done." Before Tatara could open his mouth to respond, Izumo continued. "And if I find out _any_ of you did them for her, there'll be hell to pay." He opened his narrow leer and honed it in on Masaomi. "D' I make myself clear?"

Sweat beaded on Masaomi's temple as he awkwardly laughed off Izumo's concern like it was misplaced. "Crystal..."

After the crowd dispersed with a plan to cheer up their irritable companion, Mikoto slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the mirrored liquor shelf on the other side of the bar, Izumo's slouched posture in its reflection. "You know that's exactly what's gonna happen," Mikoto cautioned him bluntly.

"Yeah," Izumo admitted. "But there's no reason I can't make 'em sweat a little for it."

Mikoto tipped his sharp peripheral stare Izumo's way before scoffing with amusement, a faint smirk curling his lips as he closed his eyes. "He's right, you know."

Izumo's body tightened as he watched their laughing group depart, his gaze narrowing with suspicion. "Don't say that," he grumbled nervously. "That's a whole nother issue that I'm just not ready to deal with..."

* * *

Tatara opened their apartment door slowly, peeking around the safety of the slab before entering just in case she was armed. "Nei-chan? Are you home?"

"If I'm not at Onii-san's or school, I'm here," she muttered briskly. "You know better, Tat-chan."

Relieved that she'd been in a fine enough mood to call him by his pet-name, he perspired awkwardly and let himself in. "I guess you're right. Sorry, I asked such a silly question."

One bare leg was folded over her other as she sat on their couch in comfortable sleep shorts with her schoolbooks on her lap. "It's fine. I'm sorry I acted so brashly just a little while ago. That was unnecessary."

"Nobody blames you," he assured her kindly.

She sighed softly and closed her books, her expression dropping with disappointment. "Usually, being around everyone makes it easier, but it seems like today is just one of those days."

"Did something happen?" His inquiry was soft as he joined her on the couch.

After a moment of silence, Neirah reached out and set her notebook on their coffee table before drawing her knees up and clutching them against her chest. "I guess my father called my aunt the other day to see how I was. They're pretty worried that I haven't come home."

Tatara's gaze shifted across the table as he fought to maintain his meek smile. "Are you... thinking about going back?"

Neirah buried the lower half of her face against her knees, her brow creasing with impatience. "Sometimes you say the most ridiculous things, Tat-chan," she muttered tenderly. "They're finally free of my curse. There's no way I'm going back now…"

Tatara smiled at her and watched her try her hardest to avoid his prying. "Kusanagi-san says it's alright if you go out today and work on your assignments later." His smile broadened as the flush in her cheeks deepened in colour. "If you want to, that is."

"No, he's right," she denied. "I have been neglecting my studies."

Tatara laid his palms against the couch edge and kicked out his feet. "But right now, you're neglecting your friends. I thought you and Bandō were kind of close after all that happened, but just now, he thought he upset you." He tipped his curious gaze to where he sensed her stiffen beside him.

"I found Wolf-kun, so it was my responsibility to see that he was properly initiated."

"Oh? So now that he's comfortable, you don't care anymore?"

Neirah whirled to face him, her cheeks still deep crimson as she defiantly threw her hands down by her sides. "Don't be absurd! Of course, I care!"

"Then maybe we should join them at the beach, hm?"

Neirah stilled uneasily. "N-no. I don't want to."

"You're blushing really badly, Nei-chan. Did you know that?"

"I-I'm not! It's too hot!"

Tatara dropped his cunning gaze with a triumphant smile. "So, I'm right."

Her gaze narrowed on him suspiciously. "Right about what, Tat-chan?"

He returned his sardonic expression towards her and spoke in a small voice. "You have a crush."

Her tan cheeks paled of all colour under the impact of his accusation.

"On one of us, no less."

"T-that's not true," she brokenly denied. Growing a little braver, she lurched onto her hands and knees against the couch. "Tatara, don't say those things!"

He flopped against the cushions and touched his lips with his forefinger. "But which one of us is it? It couldn't be Kusanagi-san. He's so much older than you, and Chitose was met with nothing but resistance. But, I guess it's not impossible that something developed over the last few months after the incident with that Strain."

Neirah's expression anxiously dimmed. "Tat-chan, are you shipping me with my clanmates?" She slipped as much venom into her words as she could when she felt the blush start to flood her cheeks again. "Stop that."

"It could be Dewa. You did mention that you wouldn't work on your homework without him."

"Dewa-kun is good with numbers!"

_Oh?_

"I'm telling you I'm not interested," she snorted briskly. "When would I even have time for romance when Kusanagi-san keeps me so busy?"

Tatara snapped his fingers with a decisive laugh. "It's Kamamoto, isn't it?" he concluded swiftly. "It must be his new look. It's got you all flustered."

"Tatara-"

"I mean, he did save your life that night you joined HOMRA-"

"Totsuka Tatara, that is _enough_!" She tensed uncertainly as his surprised gaze followed her rushed ascent. He continued to stare at her innocently as she glared at him from where she stood beside the couch, and she lowered her voice in apology for being so insensitive. "It's not funny anymore."

After a long silence, Tatara spoke again. "It's not King, is it?"

Neirah collapsed to the floor and rolled around with a desperately whiny groan. "Tataraaa!"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," he surrendered. "But you should know that it's pretty obvious, at least to some extent. And you know what'll happen if Kusanagi-san catches wind of this. He'll probably end up with blood all over his hands again."

She crawled up against the side of the couch with a bitter scowl. "There's nothing for him to catch wind of."

"You're still blushing."

"Welp, this is it. Today is the day I murder my roommate," she remarked dryly.

"H-hey, now! Don't say that so casually." He gave an uneasy laugh.

"Look, I just don't feel like going out today, really," she quietly defended. Heaving a heavy sigh, she slowly rolled her gaze over the sight of her monotonous school assignments. "But I also don't feel like worrying about homework that I have all summer to complete." She lowered her nervous gaze to where Tatara reached out and slipped his hand over hers, her heart fluttering with warmth despite the frigid breeze of their air conditioning unit circulating right next to her.

"You know, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

For the first time that afternoon, her lips turned up into a gentle smile. "I should probably at least apologize to Wolf-kun. Not everyone knows me as well as you do."

"That's true," he agreed positively. "But I'm sure they'll understand."

Neirah cocked a brow at him wryly. "Because mood swings are common for women?"

"Because they're your friends," he reminded her smoothly. "And they care about you enough to worry when you're upset."

She tipped her head back, her expression bleak with apprehension. "I threw a knife in Onii-san's bar... Today might be the day_ I_ die."

Tatara laughed uneasily. "Is that why you ran off to do your homework right away?"

"He probably noticed that too..." She groaned and climbed to her feet, dragging them behind her towards the bathroom. "If I'm going anywhere today, I'm going to shower first."

"I don't know why," he teased. "We're going to the beach to swim and, in this heat, ten minutes after you get out of the shower, you're going to be sticky again-"

"A lady has standards!"

"Right, right, sorry."

* * *

"Totsuka-san!"

Tatara raised his flattened palm to his brow to block the rays of the sun above and finally managed to locate Rikio in the crowd. He dropped his hand with a sunny smile and began to wave at him. "Hey! We made it!" he announced gleefully. "It took some convincing, but I got Nei-chan out of the house."

Upon turning to look over his shoulder, Tatara's smile humbled. She had a beach tote slung over one shoulder and stylish amber shades over her eyes with her hair drawn back. She slipped a sheer white blouse over her swimsuit top, and that was where his analysis stopped. She was doing her best to look anywhere but him, which gave him time to appreciate what he saw. The marks on her shoulders had healed entirely, leaving her soft bronzed skin to shimmer in the bright sunlight.

Life had been hard for her once, and she was still learning how to relax and enjoy the finer things. Earnestly, that had been the most significant reason for him to coax her out of their apartment. The marks on her skin may have healed, but she still carried the scars on her heart. He silently vowed to fix that, even if that was the last thing he did.

Neirah diverted her flushed gaze to the side and pushed long strands of loose hair away from her lips as the harsh sea-breeze dragged them across her face. The sun brought out the red in her highlights, making the dark strands burn as they fluttered wildly around her cheeks. "It was stuffy in the apartment," she mumbled defensively. "I couldn't concentrate on my assignments."

"Don't worry about those, Nē-chan," Masaomi assured her kindly. "I'll help you as much as I can over the summer."

Neirah's bashful gaze grew even more distant to avoid Tatara's prying. She didn't feel like she could say anything without being suspected.

"Nē-chan!" Yō hollered fondly. "The tide's actually pretty cool if you go in far enough! Come on! Let's swim!" He tipped his diverted gaze towards Masaomi and lowered his voice. "Operation: Distract Nē-chan starts now."

After scanning his peripherals, Masaomi murmured his harsh warning beneath his breath. "If you flirt with her even once, I'll tell Kusanagi-san."

Yō's expression dropped. "You're a crappy friend. You know that?"

Neirah smiled faintly, finding herself eager to spend time with her friends after all. With her term exams and late-night missions from Izumo, she'd been run ragged, and the strain was beginning to show in her youthful expression. Despite what she outwardly expressed, being with her family was all she ever really wanted.

Her smile quickly faded when she and Tatara approached where Rikio stood with Saburōta close to his side. Avoiding Tatara's prying gaze suspecting her affections for Rikio, she immediately reached out and grabbed Saburōta by his collar, ignoring his clamouring as she dragged him away. It was fondly reminiscent of the night they'd met for her. The sheer terror on his face noted that he might not have been so keen.

"Oi, what are you doing?!" he demanded nervously. He turned to look over his shoulder at Neirah from behind dark shades as she continued to avoid his observation. "Did I do something wrong?"

Nervously, Rikio and Tatara watched as Saburōta was yanked across the beach, mouthing the words 'help me' until he got tossed into a changing tent with a desperate yelp. "Uhm... Totsuka-san, shouldn't we be helping him right now?" Rikio murmured passively.

Tatara's gaze grew vacant as he blinked daftly at the view. "Huh, maybe it was Bandō, after all."

_Hm?_

He adjusted his attention towards Rikio and waved his hands in front of his guilty face. "Nothing! I think it should be fine. It'll all sort itself out."

Rikio didn't seem comforted in the slightest. "If you say so..."

* * *

Izumo watched the clock tick just past midnight when the door to his bar opened. Anticipating clientele, he turned his attention towards it and prepared a greeting, but instead, he met with the sight of his fellow clansmen returning from their 'brief' trip to the beach. He smiled despite his vexation. "So much for a couple of hours," he pestered.

Tatara rubbed his eyes as he stifled a yawn and flapped his fingers in dismissal of Izumo's concern. "Shh, not so loud. You'll wake, Nei-chan."

Izumo's expression softened to the sight of Neirah draped between Yō's arms and sound asleep. "What are you doing, bringing her here? Shouldn't you be taking her home?"

Ignoring their superior's instigation, Yō approached the couch and carefully laid her on it. "You know, despite how tiny she is, she's not exactly light, and there isn't an elevator in their building."

Masaomi's expression paled in disbelief. "You're so lucky she's asleep right now."

"Knock it off. You know that Nē-chan's not like that."

Tatara invited himself to take a seat in front of Izumo's bar with a gentle sigh. "She probably just needed a little nap after all the excitement finally got to her. When we stopped to eat, she fell asleep on Chitose's shoulder."

"You don't say..."

Yō scrambled nervously away from the woman to defend his involvement. "Totsuka, don't tell him that!"

"You're too noisy." Yō stilled when Mikoto approached with his hands in his pockets. He brushed past his subordinate with a dim grunt on his way towards the couch, and when he arrived to open his eyes, he rumbled his annoyance. He rolled his lethargic leer towards Yō's offence. "It's in my spot."

"Come on, King, have a heart," Tatara whined hopefully.

The group flinched when their king raised her upper half by the thick strap of her summer top, sliding in beneath her before dropping her back down into his lap with a hearty sigh. Mikoto tipped his dull gaze towards their panicked expressions as they all froze in place. "What? This is where I sit."

"Well, that _is_ where you sit," Tatara justified nervously. He turned his amused gaze towards where Saburōta seemed to be particularly tense. "Oh, I meant to ask you earlier, what did Nei-chan say to you in that tent?"

"Tent?" Izumo pried. "You mean those tents they put up at the beach for people to change?" His gaze narrowed on their newest member with great scrutiny. "What were the two of 'em doin' in one of those?"

"Talking, I think," Tatara chuckled.

Yō sighed his relief next to Masaomi and wiped the sweat from his brow. "At least the heat's off me."

"You know, you've gotta have a pretty shallow attitude to throw one of your pals under the bus like that," Masaomi scolded irately.

"I-it's not like that, I promise!" Saburōta stammered meekly. He poked his fingers together with a sheepish look on what was visible of his face. "I-we, well, she said that Totsuka-san told her I felt guilty about earlier, so she was apologizing, and I mean, she just didn't want me to feel like she was avoiding me, I guess, maybe?"

"Why would she be avoiding you?" Rikio casually interjected.

"Why would you _care_ if she was avoiding you?" Izumo pried.

"I don't know!" Saburōta shouted nervously. "Please don't hurt me!"

Izumo diverted his peripherals over his shoulder as Yō began to slink out of his bar. "I can't imagine why you'd think I'd do anything of the sort."

Comprehending that he wouldn't escape prosecution, Masaomi reached out and grabbed Yō's collar to keep him from fleeing. "We're calling it the Chitose Incident of '08. The fateful day when an idiot got what was coming to him."

"You guys are the worst," Tatara teased spiritedly. "But thanks for helping me get her this far. When I'm ready to head home, I'll wake her up, but right now, I just want to let her sleep."

"Anytime," Masaomi assured him soundly. "We were glad you two decided to come."

"Yeah, I think it was good for her," Tatara added supportively. "The fresh air and companionship, that is. She looked really happy."

From where he'd been observing their conversation, Mikoto considered the peaceful woman who slumbered in his lap. He wished it were that easy, but he could tell by the knot in her sleepy face that she was far from content. He heaved a disgruntled sigh of contemplation and closed his eyes. Regardless of her demons, she was at peace for the moment. It was like that whenever her friends were near.

"We're off," Masaomi announced upon exiting next to his companion. "We'll see you all later."

"I should probably get going too," Rikio admitted as he pushed his hair out of his face like he was in a haircare commercial.

"Can you stop doing that? It's creepy," Izumo admitted apprehensively. His gaze then turned towards their newest member, causing the man to panic slightly. "It's pretty late. You gonna stick around until she wakes up?"

Saburōta flinched before looking both ways, realizing his friends had abandoned him to fend for himself. Without Neirah awake to defend his case, he felt put on the spot. "I'm a- actually… should be going too," he rushed out timidly. "Uh, goodnight Totsuka-san, Mikoto-san." He hesitantly stiffened when Mikoto offered him a curt grunt of acknowledgement.

On the other hand, Tatara waved at him with a sunny smile, the complete opposite of what he received from his king. "Have a good night."

He slowly turned his attention towards the fake smile on Izumo's face as he polished some tableware. "See you later," Izumo purred mischievously. "Try not to get lost on your way home, okay?"

Saburōta laughed uneasily towards the three very different reactions he'd received, and he slowly began to back away from their company. "R-right," he swiftly agreed. "Goodnight then, Kusanagi-san."

Tatara sighed and tipped his head back until he could look up at Izumo. "That was mean."

"It got the point across, didn't it?" he drawled fondly. "Gotta keep these boys on their toes because I'd hate for them to learn the hard way." After a brief silence passed and their attention drew to the sight of their slumbering companions on the couch, Izumo spoke again. "So, the Chitose Incident of '08, huh? Seems like our clan's already makin' some memories."

"It's great, isn't it?" he mused softly. "I know you tease him about it all the time, but King has brought all of us together like some sort of family, and I think that's great." His weighted gaze softened as he watched Neirah's peaceful face start to contort with discomfort on Mikoto's lap. Even as Mikoto remained calm, his head tipped against the couch back peacefully, Neirah's fingers began to wring the denim of his jeans. "Especially because some of us don't have much of a family left." A tender smile brightened Tatara's face as Mikoto no more than shifted his hand, and picked hers away from his thigh to stop her fussing beneath the slight flicker of his aura. Like she'd received his unspoken command in her sleep, she stopped fidgeting.

"Is that what's got her down?" Izumo pried. "Is it her aunt?"

Tatara gently shook his head. "Not this time. Her aunt is the one who called her, but her dad's wondering how she's been. I guess it's been a while since they last spoke."

"And I somehow doubt she's told them what's been going on."

Tatara diverted his solemn gaze. "She's started waking up some nights crying. I think she feels guilty about everything. I try not to wake her if I can avoid it because, you know, she sleeps armed seeing how she's so paranoid."

Izumo's humbled expression tipped towards him analytically. "Are you saying that because you want me to stop asking her to sneak around for us?"

Tatara shook his head. "No-no, that's not it," he defended. "That kind of thing doesn't seem to bother her. I think she's a little nervous about that Yakuza member that got away the night she joined King's clan, though. Some of the things she says in her sleep sound kind of familiar. She's probably afraid that they might come looking for her again."

"Seems unlikely after what they suffered by our hands back then," Izumo affirmed. "They'd be pretty stupid to come after her now."

"It's true," Tatara agreed. He slowly rotated in his seat and accepted the drink Izumo passed him from the other side of the bar. "Can we rule out that Strain she and Bandō ran into that night?"

Izumo checked the status of their sleeping company and then quietly nodded. "He's not with the Raikōjū Ka," he reassured him confidently. "But he is back on the streets. It looks like he got out from under SCEPTRE4 somehow. Neirah tracked him down two nights ago on the outskirts of Shizume towards the industrial side of town. By the looks of it, he's hauled up in Minato."

"I wondered why she was so late the other night." Tatara rested one of his folded arms on the bar top as he took the stir stick in his drink between his fingers and twirled it to blend the coloured layers. "Nei-chan sure comes in handy for undercover work, doesn't she?"

"I thought she might," Izumo admitted vaguely. "But it turns out she's just as hard to keep a hold of as the rest of them. She and Chitose are closer than they let on, and every time she talks about that Strain, she gets irritable. I think she's got one hell of a temper and if we don't keep it in check-"

"You say that like it wouldn't make anyone mad that their friend got hurt," Tatara defended. "I'm sure it would have been the same if it were you, me, or even King."

"Maybe so, but for anyone who's that desensitized to killing, it can be a real dangerous thing," he whispered. "I know Mikoto's worried too. If she doesn't keep it together, all that power she's stumbled into is gonna get the best of her. She's going to end up in a heap of trouble. Considering she hunts alone most nights, of course we're worried."

"I think we're worrying too much," Tatara purred. "She'll be okay, you'll see."

"Totsuka, y' know, sometimes I wonder about you."

"Wonder what?"

Izumo smiled and closed his eyes, dropping his head with the weight of his inner conflict. "Never mind."

Tatara finished his drink and proceeded to bat the glass between the hands he rested on top of the rosewood bar. "If that Strain isn't working for the Yakuza, I wonder why he's hunting the Red Clan all of a sudden."

"Actually, I think we've got a pretty good idea about that one now too." He pulled out an unfamiliar PDA from his pocket and flashed it towards Tatara.

"Is that his phone?" he marvelled keenly. "How did you come by that?"

"Do you have to ask?" Izumo sassed lightly. "She even managed to identify him as Goya Eiko. He's callin' an illegal residence at an abandoned factory home, and I bet that's because no one's got the balls to kick 'im out of there." He turned his skeptical gaze back towards his friend. "From what I can tell, the blues haven't gone after him yet."

"That seems strange," Tatara agreed. "Isn't that sort of their department? I mean, shouldn't they be ashamed that he managed to escape?"

Izumo sighed bleakly and tipped his flattened palms to either side of him. "You would think so, but it seems like something else has caught their attention. They just can't seem to keep it together after their king up and died."

Tatara's vacant gaze narrowed humbly. "Can you blame them, though?"

Izumo straightened to the sound of his friend's solemn tone. _Eh?_

Tatara's demeanour was unusually sombre as he continued. "I mean, how do you think we would feel if we lost King?" His grip tightened around his glass with his unease to even consider a situation so grave. "How do you go on when the one you swear your allegiance to isn't around anymore to show you the way?"

"Totsuka..."

Tatara seemed to snap himself out of his doldrums and lighten his mood. "Sorry, I guess the heat's getting to me too. I'm exhausted!" he admitted energetically. He slowly climbed to his feet and stretched out his arms. "Don't worry, Kusanagi-san. I'll keep an eye on Nei-chan. Just remember to go easy on her every now and then, too, okay?"

Izumo smiled softly and watched Tatara approach the couch where their friends relaxed together. "I don't make any promises," he teased. "She still has to pick up her socks and make better grades. I know she's capable of more than seventies."

Tatara shrugged off his concern and joined his king, standing at his feet for a moment until Mikoto had taken notice. To the sound of his dim grunt of recognition, Tatara smiled back at him and spoke. "King, can I have my roommate back now?"

Mikoto looked down at the peaceful woman and then back towards his manager. "She's comfortable."

"But we should probably be leaving-"

"_I'm_ comfortable," he corrected shortly.

Tatara sighed his defeat and dropped his head. "Well, I guess if that's the case-"

"Totsuka, could you lock the front door," Izumo called after him. "I don't think anyone else's gonna show up. Why don't you two stay here tonight?" He knowingly smiled as Tatara took a seat across from his king. "You said Neirah's been having a tough time sleeping, but Mikoto's right. She seems pretty content right where she is. It's not like you're new to sleeping around here anyway."

"Okay, you win," Tatara surrendered. "We'll stay."

"Wasn't giving you a choice," Mikoto reminded him roughly without opening his eyes to connect their gazes.

"Whatever you say, King." After climbing to his feet with the intent of helping Izumo close up for the night, Tatara turned over his shoulder to address Mikoto once more before turning out the lights for them. "And King?"

_Hm?_

"Thanks..."


	6. Katsudon

**Katsudon**

* * *

_**September 27th, 2008**_

It had been a while since Neirah had seen such a busy afternoon rush at Izumo's bar HOMRA, and as she stepped through the door, she nearly felt claustrophobic. Her gaze scoured the sea of unfamiliar faces with an anxious grimace on her sharp features. Izumo almost immediately took notice of this but was too busy serving to be bothered by her sour attitude. For a moment, at least, he let her continue to search the building for her friends.

She yelped, barely stifling her surprised shriek when the table she worked on passing ignited with loud feminine squeals. She quickly rushed past towards the bar and its tender for protection. Once she felt safe, she turned her impatient scowl towards the merry laughter like she begrudged them the pleasure. She didn't recognize any of the young women sharing girly gossip over a couple of drinks, but she wasn't sure whether she appreciated the strangeness or not.

Izumo kept his wary gaze on her efforts, knowing exactly why she was there and who she was looking for. "Give the guy a break, would you? He's pretty mangled after your little adventure this morning."

Neirah's spine tingled to the sound of Izumo's vague accusation, and her face immediately flushed with guilt. She diverted it with shame when he adjusted his attention towards her lingering, and her light reply came saturated in regret. "So, he came by here after all?" She could have assumed he would take cover where he felt safest.

Izumo shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. Mentioned something about teeth marks in the table now, but I half-listen." Izumo sighed and set down the glass he was drying before proceeding with his lecture. "You should know better," he scolded. She looked like she was about to clamour out a defence, so he raised his voice when he continued. "You know what he's like; how he gets into all these crazy things while they're hot." He tried to force a smile onto his concerned face when she grew brave enough to look at him. "Not everyone around here's as nimble as you are."

She settled comfortably into her seat and rested her head in her arms to hide her shame. "Tai-chi is supposed to be good for your mind and body. I didn't think anyone could be so... bad at it."

Izumo sighed and returned his consideration towards his guests. "I said he gets into everything he can get his hands on. I didn't say he was good at it." He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, desperate for a cigarette during the rush. Due to his position, though, he considered it inappropriate and muted the craving. "Don't get too cozy," he drawled in warning. "With the way this place is right now, I might just put you to work."

Neirah seemed to dismiss the caution in his statement entirely, turning to scan the bustling bar floor instead. "Where is everyone?" Even her king was missing, and the unfamiliarity was beginning to cause her stress. "There's always someone here on the weekend."

"They're all avoiding the place, so I don't put them to work," he repeated dryly. "So, if you're going to take up space, you might as well grab a towel and help me dry these dishes."

Her face knotted inquisitively. "Wait, what's wrong with the dishwasher?"

From nearby, Tatara's voice interrupted their conversation with an urgently pleasant tone dictating his exhaustion with the mad rush. "He's currently too busy washing to dry." He rushed out of the kitchen, weaving between the liquor shelf and Izumo with an empty dish bin. He raised his hand to dab his forearm over his perspiring brow with a quaint grin. "So, if Nei-chan's not too busy, I would love a hand."

Neirah's expression remained stony and fixed on Tatara as she pulled out a bill. She gingerly laid it on the counter and slowly pushed it towards Izumo beneath two fingers. "One green tea, please." She was at least ninety-percent sure that they wouldn't put a paying customer to work.

Izumo growled lowly, dropping his index finger onto the paper to push it back towards her in rejection. "Nice try," he muttered callously. "If you're not gonna help, fine, but go make it yourself."

The pair flinched simultaneously, Neirah outright shivering to the sound of the same lurid, intoxicated guests lighting up at her request.

"Who orders tea at a _bar_?" the first demanded.

"I know! Is she even old enough to sit at one?" came an unwelcome addition.

There were four in total, and her gaze narrowed to mistrustful slits as she glowered at the tittering table. Something about the women enjoying each other's companionship grated on her nerves. "Onii-san, please tell me I'm still the only one." She wrinkled her money beneath curling fingers as she prepared to go to war. "If not, I think King-sama and I are going to have words."

"Oh, and what words might those be?" Izumo snidely remarked. "Considering he's a man of few, I wouldn't expect that conversation to go far."

"Ooo, look at that face! So scary." A third chimed.

"Did she just call Kusanagi-san _Onii-san_?"

"No way, I didn't know he had a little sister!"

"She might be cute if it weren't for that beastly scowl." She liked the fourth the least.

As Neirah was about to open her mouth, Izumo's hand was her head and forcing her to retract her fangs. "Now, now, those are _real_ customers you're scaring away. If you're gonna be a moody little brat, you've got two options; beat it or tie back that pretty hair of yours and get in that kitchen."

Neirah's sights dimmed as their gazes connected in her peripherals. "You do realize what you just said to me, right?"

"D' I stutter?"

The hushed tones from the table raised again as one of the bustier women leant her upper body on the slab until she swelled out of the low neckline of her top. She waved her hand high in the air to get the bar tender's attention as she called out to him. "Kusanagi-san! Is that really your little sister!?" The song in her tone had made Neirah's jaw tighten.

Izumo recoiled and lessened his grip on Neirah's head, banishing the venom in his smooth voice to drawl his sweet reply. "Who, this?" He laughed uneasily. "Well, yeah, I guess you could say that."

"You _guess_?" the fourth instigated.

"Eee! Kusanagi-san is so cute when he's flustered!" She figured the first was likely the one who drank the most out of the flirty quartet.

"Come sit with us, Kusanagi-chan!" The tone in number two's voice made her retch.

"Well, that sounds absolutely dreadful," Neirah muttered bleakly. Izumo cautiously watched Neirah growl, wriggle free of his grip and pull her hair back out of her face. Her black bangle was already pinched between her teeth as she gathered hair atop her crown and prepared to take the first suggestion Izumo offered.

He sighed and straightened to watch as she made her grumpy exit. "Don't be like that. You know, it wouldn't kill you to spend time with someone other than Totsuka." He winced as she took up a bin of dirty glassware, bussing it to the kitchen with an exaggerated racket.

"Sorry, Onii-chan. I can't hear you over the sound of my slave duties."

He rolled his eyes at her instigation but didn't let it interrupt his process. "That kid... Anythin' to be the centre of his world."

Neirah entered the kitchen and let the predatory knot unbind her face as she dropped her guard. After setting the bin down on the counter next to her, her spirits brightened for a moment as she withdrew an embroidered headband and used it to fold back her bangs. Her body relaxed when Tatara turned over his shoulder to offer her a grateful smile, the same curve making its way onto her face in reciprocation. "Tat-chan, where would you like the dishes? I can bring them over there if you'd like."

"Thanks, Nei-chan, but I'll come and grab them when I get through the ones in front of me. I don't really have the room right now." Apology immediately plagued his tone as he returned his consideration to the dishes in the sink at his front. "Sorry, I ran out while you were still in the shower. Kusanagi-san said he needed help pretty badly, so I didn't think about it. I just came running."

Neirah's smile broadened with understanding. "Tat-chan is always running off without thinking, but that's what makes him him," she sassed. "Here, I'll come help you get caught up."

She suddenly squealed when she attempted to step towards her helpful roommate, striking a pretty substantial roadblock instead. It didn't take much more effort for her to be toppling right over it and onto the floor.

To the sound of her girlish yelp, Tatara immediately began fussing on the other side of the counter, dishes clattering and water sloshing over the side of the sink as he whirled. A part of him was embarrassed to compare it to him falling into their table earlier that morning while trying to carry the tiger over the mountain. "Nei-chan! Are you alright?" That was pretty much exactly how she sounded when she called to him, receiving the response of _it's fine, everything's fine_; everything but his bruised tailbone.

From where he'd been sitting cross-legged beneath her, Rikio supported the woman's collapse while she tried to untangle herself from his lap. "Sorry, Nē-chan," he announced sheepishly. "I shoulda probably warned you that I was down here."

She managed to scramble to her knees, her palms flat on the floor among a varied array of mechanical parts and gaskets. The crease in her brow deepened with consideration. "Fair enough, but why?" she interrogated. "What exactly are you doing down here?"

Rikio groaned and scratched at his temple. "Well, I uh... fixing? Maybe?"

Tatara leaned over the counter and retrieved the dishes that Neirah delivered to the kitchen for washing, thankful that she'd set them down before taking a tumble. "Kamamoto thinks he might be able to get the dishwasher working again."

Neirah seemed delighted to consider it. "Oh, wow! I didn't know you were a tinkerer!"

Rikio shifted his embarrassed scratching to his upper lip and diverted his gaze. "Eh… Well, you see, I wouldn't call it-"

"Here, let me help!"

"Ah! Nē-chan, but I-!" He sort of had the screws organized before she began to crawl over his workstation.

Tatara smiled humbly as he scrubbed the glasses clean in the sudsy sink. "Don't worry, Kamamoto-kun. Nei-chan is actually pretty handy when it comes to technical things like this. She was the one who fixed our air conditioner this summer."

"Whoa! No way!" Rikio turned and marvelled at the sight of her enthusiasm, trying not to get distracted by her broad hips filling out the gap she vanished into upon her initial examination. "I didn't know you could fix things like that, Nē-chan."

She hummed thoughtfully, disregarding his blanket statement. "When exactly was the last time this was serviced?" Her tone filled with hints of accusation. "No wonder it just quit."

"Yeah, I uh... totally," Rikio groaned in vague agreement.

"Tat-chan, don't worry about those glasses. I'll have this operational in no time." She peeled her lean torso out of the dishwasher, a curious furrow in her brow when she considered how far Rikio had gotten into his project. "Kamamoto-kun, where did you get all those gaskets from? You didn't even take the motor apart."

He picked up one of the rings and twirled it between thick fingers. "What these? I just found 'em lyin' around and thought they were spares. Seemed like I might need them if I wanted to fix it."

Neirah smiled at him drolly and snagged the little black band. "Kamamoto-kun, this is one of my hair ties."

Rikio lurched forward, his face flushed with humiliation. "H-how was I supposed to know that!?"

Neirah narrowed her accusing leer over her wicked smile. "You just didn't want to help with the dishes, did you?"

"Come on, Tsukiyo-san! It wasn't like that, I promise!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you," she serenaded. She dug through Rikio's tools, inspecting his selection to make sure that he had gathered something useful. "I might need to borrow your hands for a bit, though. I can do the delicate parts, but you're stronger."

Hooking his thumb beneath the rear waistline of his pants, he tugged them higher on his hips as he crawled forward with interest, ready to help her in any way he could. "Alright, just tell me what to do!"

"Thanks," she hummed fondly. "Here just pry this piece back- perfect. Hold it there while I get these screws out."

"Yes ma'am!"

* * *

"Goodbye, Kusanagi-san!"

"See you next time! Take care of that scary little sister of yours!"

Izumo kept his composure, his smile kind as he waved back at the women even as one blew him a kiss on her way out. "Take care, ladies. Make sure you come back soon, okay? Gets mighty lonely 'round here sometimes." They all squealed with delight. He watched them through half-lidded eyes while they disappeared with his tight grin still painted falsely on his face. "Skanks," he chimed beneath his breath. "Just wait until their boyfriends hear about this."

To the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen, he tilted to observe a successful trio making their exit. Tatara banished his apron, awkwardly stumbling about stiffly from his meditation injuries, and Rikio wasn't going to let him live it down. From her expression, Neirah still felt somewhat guilty about the whole ordeal, but she wasn't jumping on the offensive. It seemed that, as time progressed, she was opening up to more of her fellow clansmen, and something about that comforted him.

"It's awful noisy back there," he teased. "Sounds like you might've got that old hunk-of-junk runnin' again."

Rikio beamed at the man like he was about to take credit for the fix. "Yeah! Nē-chan fixed it easy!"

She smiled back at him sweetly, nudging him in the ribs with spunk. "You know it wasn't _actually_ broken."

Rikio chuckled and threw one hand back against his nape as the other rubbed his obliques where she had bumped him. "I know, I know, but I still think it's amazing that you know these things."

"Nei-chan likes to work with her hands," Tatara educated fondly. "That's why homework isn't her strong suit."

Immediately pumping her balled fists by her side, Neirah lurched onto the attack with a startled look in her eyes. "Tatara! Don't say those kinds of things around Kusanagi-san! You know I did all my schoolwork this weekend!" She whimpered as Izumo approached, and she shrunk towards Rikio like she might need protection. "Honest, Onii-san... I made sure to do it all the first day."

Izumo responded by smiling and reaching out his hand towards her, upturning it with a few bills in his palm. "You're off the hook this time," he assured her kindly. "Here, whether you did it or not, I want you to go out and get yourself somethin' nice."

Neirah looked down at the money offered and then back at him in confusion. "I... don't understand?"

"Mn, it's quite simple, really," he teased. He tightened his grip on the bills, waving them by his head as he explained his circumstance. "You fixin' that dishwasher today saved me from havin' to call in tech support, so here's what they probably woulda made off me for doin' the same damn thing."

When he lowered his hand a second time, she apprehensively reached out and retrieved the donation like she was still questioning the reason he wanted to give it to her. When she did a swift once-over to determine the sum, she turned her disrupted gaze to face his carefree attitude. "Onii-chan, this is a lot of money!"

"It's not that much. I make a hell of a lot more than that just off those rowdy chicks that pop by here every Saturday to liven up the place."

"I can't take this," she refuted.

He dropped his palm on the top of her head reassuringly. "Don't sweat it, kid. You're actin' like you thought that knockin' people off was the only way to make it in this world." He flopped his hand from her hairline down to his side, stuffing the other into his pocket. "Besides, I hate seein' a bright young lady livin' out of her backpack. It's been almost half a year since you officially moved away from home, and I know you didn't go back for any of your things." He snickered devilishly and threw his thumb out towards Tatara. "And hell, I'd pay any lady livin' with this clown outta pity."

Tatara's smile didn't fade as he hobbled around the counter and sat down uncomfortably in one of the leather-wrapped stools. "Believe me. You don't need to pity her. She got me back pretty good for all the times I've annoyed her about King."

She snorted curtly and turned up her nose. "Tat-chan doesn't pay enough attention to me."

Izumo's snigger was low and smooth. "Yeah, you two got somethin' strange goin' on there. No doubt about that."

Neirah looked back down at her allowance and then smiled brightly with excitement. "Tat-chan, did you want to maybe-" Her enthusiasm solemnly faded as he groaned and held up his hand to interject. His smile was never-fading, but she could see that he wasn't interested.

"Sorry, Nei-chan, but I think I'm gonna sit this one out. Everything still kinda hurts," he sang softly. "Maybe someone else could go with you."

She looked down into her hands, guilt filling her again for a moment before realization seemed to contort her expression. Before Rikio could take notice of her interest, she quietly turned to face where he itched at his facial hair, and she remained fixed for a moment. When he finally managed to catch that she was watching him from his peripherals, he startled them both by flinching, unsure of how to react to her intent leer.

"I-is somethin' wrong, Tsukiyo-san?"

She answered his inquiry with a bright smile. "Kamamoto-kun helped me with the repairs, so it only seems right that we split the compensation."

Izumo's expression faltered behind his palm as he attempted to light himself a much-needed cigarette. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate their efforts, but he was regrettably more willing to hand Neirah money over any of his other clansmen. "Eh? But I thought you said it wasn't actually broken."

She whirled to inspect Izumo with a meek grin. "I know, but he still helped me. It's only fair."

Izumo shrugged and returned his lighter to his pocket, humbled by her quirky sense of righteousness. "Well, I guess I could throw him a bone too."

Rikio immediately raised his hands, waving them frantically to deny any interest. "Don't worry about it, Kusanagi-san. I didn't do much, honest."

Realizing what was happening around her, Neirah's smile broadened. "A compromise then," she suggested diplomatically. "Kamamoto-kun, would you like to join me for an early supper?"

"A what-?"

She shrugged, and her cheeks flushed tenderly. "Or a late lunch. Whatever you want to call it."

Rikio's pigment darkened as he drew his index finger into the centre of his chest. "W-who, me?"

Tatara whined softly from his seat next to her. "But Nei-chan, I already had plans for supper tonight. We were going to have okonomiyaki, remember?"

Neirah shooed away his concern. "Oh tush, we can use up our leftovers tomorrow. It's not the end of the world."

Izumo chuckled at the thought of her invitation. "You know, that money could probably buy you a pretty sharp dress or a nice heavy jacket for when the cold weather comes around. But treating Kamamoto to dinner-?"

Neirah turned and pulled her hair away from her nape, flashing the golden HOMRA emblem on the back of her black leather jacket. "But you already had this jacket made for me. I don't want to wear any other one." She dropped her wavy tresses and turned her bright eyes onto Rikio. "Besides, I don't need a lot of fancy things. I would much rather spend time with the people I care about."

Tatara and Izumo narrowed their sharp gazes on the flustered Rikio intently. "Well now, hard to turn down a lady with a request like that," Izumo pestered.

"I think it would be nice for Nei-chan to spend time with someone other than me," Tatara agreed. "You two should go enjoy yourselves. Nei-chan is right. We can have okonomiyaki tomorrow."

Surrendering to her insistence, Rikio sniggered shyly and articulated his agreement. "Awh, well when you put it that way, it's kinda hard to say no."

"Great!" Neirah cheered. "Do you know any good places for katsudon? I really love tonkatsu."

Rikio responded to her query with a low, rumbling laugh. "Do I know any good places..." he mocked brightly.

After watching the friendly pair leave, Izumo slowly turned his cunning expression on Tatara's curious prying. "You're not that sore at all, are you?" He snickered at the look of guilt flooding his companion's face, waiting until their friends were out of earshot before continuing. "I'm tellin' you; It's not him. Unless she was only interested in the lightweight version."

"For shame, Kusanagi-san," Tatara chided playfully. "Nei-chan isn't that shallow."

"You're right, I don't think she is," he drawled earnestly. "Sorry, Totsuka, but I just don't think it's love that you're seein'. She's just…" There was a thoughtful pause in his speech as he watched the pair depart, and as he observed them, the perfect word came to mind with the smile to his face. "Happy."

Tatara dropped his head in defeat. "To be honest, I think once she figured out that I was on to her, she started covering her tracks."

"Crafty little vixen."

Tatara slowly turned in his seat after watching Neirah and Rikio depart in pleasant conversation. "Regardless, I still think it's nice that she's spending more time with the others. She took Bandō under her wing when he showed up, so they seem to get along pretty well. Then she and Chitose spent the afternoon together last weekend. They went shopping, I think."

Izumo cocked a brow at the man suspiciously. "Y' know, sometimes I wonder if you don't have a dark side too. At first, it seems like you're everyone's pal, but then you go and say condemning stuff like that."

Tatara laughed at his incriminating tone. "I just think it's funny, is all. When King first decided to let her join us, you were pretty mad."

"Yeah, still mad," Izumo admitted sourly.

Tatara's expression softened with appreciation. "But now, you're one of the people who care about her most, I can tell." He didn't bother letting his theory falter despite the wry look on his friend's face. "You know what she told Chitose when they were out? She told him that she was saving all the extra money made from her time with the Yakuza so that she could put herself through college. That seems like a pretty responsible decision for someone her age to be making."

Izumo grinned knowingly but didn't let on his involvement. "Well, maybe she's not as stunned as I thought."

"So, you _do_ care," Tatara pestered joyfully.

Izumo sighed and laid his arms flat against the top of his bar, relieved that the rush had died down. "Yeah... the kid's growin' on me, that's for sure. I'd like to keep 'er on the straight-and-narrow if I could."

Tatara's expression warmed fondly. "You're such a good big brother."

"Don't test me, Totsuka."

"What?! I'm serious!"

* * *

Neirah lightly growled her dissatisfaction as she poked the food around her saucy plate. "Why do restaurants always slice the pork so thick?" she griped rhetorically. "I'm little. I eat little foods."

_Hm?_ Rikio turned his chewing expression over to where Neirah swiftly slipped a free throwing knife from her tailbone. He fled back in panic when she used the thin blade to half the pieces of breaded meat sitting on top of her rice. "Nē-chan! What are you doing?!"

Neirah's cute pout seemed puzzled when she paused in her task to observe his fretting out of the corner of her eye. "I just explained that it frustrates me when they leave the pork slices so thick, didn't I?"

"W-well, yeah but, where'd that knife come from?" He faltered uncertainly.

She turned casually in the booth next to him and gathered her hair over her shoulder to reveal the low-riding waistline of her jeans. To show him where she kept it, she slipped her finger in the belt loop at the base of her spine. "I always keep one on me, just in case. Tat-chan says I'm too paranoid, but I'd rather be cautious than dead."

The large man sitting next to her paled when she straightened, raising her knife to her tongue to clean the remaining sauce from the blade. He was stunned enough to watch her lick the first side, but when she flipped it over, he was interfering. "Don't do that!"

Her brow knotted, tongue still hanging and pressed to the polished dart. "Eh? Why not?" She lowered the blade and let a deep crease dampen her expression. "I'm obviously not going to put it back covered in tonkatsu sauce."

Rikio quickly looked around the restaurant, using his mass to conceal where she was acting a little suspicious by the window next to them. "Because you're gonna cut yourself, and then your food's gonna taste funny." He discreetly slipped her a napkin instead. "Here, just use this."

Typically, people fretting over her safety would aggravate her, but something about his genuine care was starting to be regarded fondly in her mind. In consideration of his concern, she retracted the blade and finished cleaning it with the rag before tucking it away. "I suppose, I did order a spicy variant." She hummed gleefully and snagged a piece of pork between her chopsticks. "There. Look at how manageable these are now." She chomped down on the savoury portion of meat with a satisfied smile. "Mm, perfect for little mouths." Catching the sight of Rikio grinning at her hopeless display, she turned entirely to face him. After swallowing her food, she spoke through a sad smile. "You think I'm strange, don't you?"

"Wha-?! No, that's not it at all!" he clamoured anxiously.

Neirah's grin was sly with devilish enjoyment as she reached out and snagged a dumpling off his plate with swift reflexes. She popped it into her mouth with a delighted coo and enjoyed the flavour. "Mn, I can appreciate an honest man, you know."

Rikio diverted his gaze with a defeated sigh. "Well, honestly, Nē-chan is a little strange." He quickly turned to face her again and rushed out his justification. "But in a good way! It's what makes you interesting."

She laughed fondly and picked away at her saucy rice. "Tat-chan says the same thing. _Nei-chan, you're really interesting, you know that?_ I think he's in denial. Girls can't be cute and deadly."

Rikio seemed to relax with her casual indifference on the subject. "That's obviously not true," he reasoned. "You have your moments. Like the other day, when you fell asleep studying at Kusanagi-san's bar."

Her laughter was nearly boisterous to consider the thought. "So, I'm only cute when I'm asleep, am I?"

He pouted nervously. "I'm tryin' not to be weird."

"You mean _interesting_?" She seemed humbled by his concern and dismissed her light teasing. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I'm pretty sure Tat-chan thinks this is a date anyways."

Rikio nearly toppled right out of his seat and into the aisle between tables. "He what!? Why would he think _that_?!"

She turned and swiped another dumpling from his plate, stuffing it behind her lips. "I've noticed he's trying to get me to spend time with certain people because he's convinced that I have _feelings_ for someone in HOMRA."

He diverted his gaze to his emptying plate and then returned it to her. "Wait, do you?"

She snickered devilishly and snacked on another piece of his meal. "Of course, I do." She didn't strain under the pressure of his fixed attention as she returned to picking away at her own food. "Actually, I have pretty strong feelings for a number of my fellow clansmen." She shifted her bright peripheral gaze towards his flushed face, her mischievous smirk tight as she slowly reached for his plate again. "Some might say all of them."

Growling lightly to her game, he swatted her greedy chopsticks away and lifted his plate in both hands out of her reach, guarding it like a starving stray. "That wasn't funny, Nē-chan. You shouldn't tease about things like that."

Neirah seemed to be confused by his sobriety and lowered her voice to fill it with tenderness. "Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"Totsuka-san isn't the only one who cares, y' know. None of us wants to see you get hurt." Rikio seemed to be less strained as he returned to talking through a mouthful of supper. "At first, I don't think anyone was real concerned because you didn't seem to let anyone else get close, but now that you're startin' to get along with the rest of us-"

Neirah gasped and threw her arms around her body like he'd just peeked at her changing. "Pervert, don't look! My feelings are showing!"

Rikio snorted, throwing his balled fist against his face to keep from spraying food all over their table. After a moment of quiet sniggering, he was able to choke down his mouth's contents so they could light up their corner of the restaurant with delighted laughter loud enough that it attracted the attention of other patrons. The act didn't seem to bug her so much when she was the cause.

As she contemplated clutching her sides to comfort her aching belly, she couldn't consciously remember a time where she'd laughed quite so hard. It was beginning to bring tears to her eyes, and when she felt the weight of Rikio's palm on her shoulder to steady his hysterics, she felt a fond blush warm her face. She'd never had somebody to laugh with quite so passionately over nothing.

"Tsukiyo…? Is that you?"

Feeling Neirah's shoulder tense under his grip, her laughter silencing in one startled gasp, the humour quickly faded in Rikio's expression as he turned to face the aisle. Next to him, a tall man with styled, ashy-brown hair was lingering nearby and adjusting his ruby-framed glasses over the bridge of his nose to make sure he hadn't seen things that weren't there. Rikio narrowed his gaze, doing everything he could to not growl at the intrusion outwardly. "Who the hell are you?" he settled on sneering.

Just as the man was about to justify his interruption, Neirah raised her voice one level above a whisper. "It's okay. He's harmless."

"Oh, wow! It is you," the boy proclaimed spiritedly. "I almost didn't recognize you out of your uniform. I don't think I've ever seen you without it on." A bright and encouraging smile flashed across his face as he complimented her so earnestly it seemed like a mockery. "I like your jacket."

Rikio's intensity increased in defence of the woman by his side, who was unexpectedly clamming up after they'd enjoyed a hearty laugh a moment prior. Her discomfort made him uneasy. "Friends of yours, Tsukiyo-san?"

Neirah's cheeks flushed as she slipped her meek expression towards the pair of boys stopping at their table. She hadn't recognized the second one, but the one speaking was quite familiar. "Kamamoto-kun, this is Okazaki Gin." Her voice seemed to trail off distantly. "We... share some classes in school."

In response, Gin's brow knotted sadly. "That's a _little_ cold," he teased lightly. "We've actually been in classes together since middle school." Neirah seemed to remain indifferent to this. Realizing that he was losing her attention, Gin's expression humbled awkwardly. "We used to study together after school sometimes up until... well, pretty recently, I guess."

The way the man laughed restlessly reminded Rikio of Tatara. They had the same friendly, optimistic attitude that wanted to be everyone's comrade. What caused his body to tighten was the guard Neirah put up for the rather harmless looking man that she deemed as such. It wasn't a guard she used against Tatara; in fact, it was quite the opposite.

Rikio titled over his shoulder to face her squarely, just waiting for her eyes to beg him to get rid of the pestilence. Comprehending that she was still on the fence, he took the initiative to shoo the boys away as diplomatically as he knew how. "Look, we're busy here. Go find someone else to bother."

Gin shifted uneasily, trying to lean around Rikio's bulky frame in an attempt to meet Neirah's vacant gaze. "Sorry, Tsukiyo. I didn't realize you were on a date." His smile was filled with sadness as he persisted. "I guess that was rude of me."

To hide his bashful denial, Rikio climbed out of his seat and dwarfed the man continuing to press the issue. "What'd I just say? Beat it, would ya!?"

Neirah couldn't tell which of the boys were more astonished when she reached out and grabbed hold of Rikio's sweater sleeve so she could gently tug him back into the booth with her. "It's alright, Kamamoto-kun," she reassured him gently. "Okazaki-san is a friend."

Outside of her claiming that they were acquaintances, Gin seemed bewildered that Neirah had touched somebody. If he ever so much as handed her a bottle of fermented tea and their fingers risked brushing, she would retract her paw without a second thought and leave the jar to crash on the pavement. That simple act of contact told him all he needed to know about the relationship she had with the man sitting next to her.

"Come on, Gin. Let's get out of here," his companion cautioned nervously. He turned his head and gave a slight bow towards the diverted woman. "Sorry, Tsukiyo-san. We didn't mean to intrude."

Gin smiled meekly and resisted the encouraging tug of his friend on his arm for a moment. His heart was in his throat as he carefully watched her, and he wondered if he indeed saw what he thought he had. He could have sworn, not moments ago, she was smiling. And not just that. She was laughing from her belly out with the man by her side. He couldn't remember having ever witnessed more than a mild grin on her tight lips in all the years he'd known her. He always thought they had been close, closer than he'd ever seen her get to anyone else. Her actions that day began to make him question if they ever really were.

"Okazaki-"

"Okay, I'm coming," Gin muttered in discouragement. He let their gazes connect one more time, and he could see signs of apology flashing in her glassy sapphire orbs. It was hard for him to tell in that one simple gesture whether she was upset that her date had caused a scene or she was silently begging for help. The consideration made his gut wrench. As his gaze tried desperately to communicate reassurance to her, he silently promised that he would put forth the effort to figure out just what she'd gotten into that was tearing her out of his life. "I'll see you at school, right, Tsukiyo?"

Her expression was hangdog as she peeked his way with guilt weighing the smile she wanted to offer him. "Of course."

When the pair left her alone with Rikio, she remained humble, even as her friend reclaimed the seat by her side. She heard Rikio rumble a few aggravated curses before she finally spoke again. "It's funny," she murmured to catch his attention. "Okazaki-san and Tat-chan are very similar; always smiling and hopeful. Yet I see them completely differently."

Rikio turned his concerned gaze towards where the woman beside him had grown melancholy. "Ah, they're not that much alike." He said the words to reassure her, but the similarities, even in appearance, were uncanny.

His clumsy defence hadn't succeeded in comforting her, but she appreciated the effort. "It's like I'm living in two different worlds," she murmured apprehensively. "And it makes me wonder; what will I do when they finally meet in the centre?"

A feeling of unease washed over him as her thoughts seemed to leave their current conversation. He had suspicions that Neirah was still talking about the situation they'd just watched unfold. He was worried that maybe there were demons deeper than she was sharing with him, and as connected as he felt to her by the end of their meal, he felt the empty sting of being unable to offer her any assistance at all. The only one she opened up with was Tatara, and if there were demons, he would surely know. It wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest, though. She was a strange girl, after all.

But that's what made her interesting

* * *

Two worlds; one that she marched mundanely through the streets as a meek and mild schoolgirl, and one that she stormed the night flexing claws intent on upholding vigilante justice. What she wanted to know was where the line between predator and prey was drawn. She thought all along that she was a hunter, scouted for her talents by dangerous people. But when all was said and done, she ended up feeling helpless despite claiming a hundred times that she wasn't. She considered that maybe the only one who ever needed to hear her say the words was herself.

Her inner turmoil distracted her as she meandered through the streets by her lonesome, knowing that her home wasn't too far from where she was. It was likely that Tatara was home at the hour she would return. Something about that thought comforted her and suppressed her dread for another night.

In one world, she needed the optimism, the care and devotion that came with attention to her situation. In the other one, that smile mocked her weaknesses and made her worry fester in her tired mind.

She stopped in her tracks, catching the sound of a young woman's scream in her alert senses. It came once and faintly, but it echoed in her mind, and as it repeated, it changed. Soon, it was shrill and filled with the urgency of weak fingers desperately trying to hold onto fading hope. That tone of scream spoke to her in ways that even she couldn't understand, and her body ignited. In one world, she would hang her head and turn away, realizing that no matter how brightly she burned, she would never break free of karma's cycle. In the other one, her fingers were flexing around the knife at her back, and teeth ground to bare sharp fangs to the silent moonlight spilling between the buildings.

But which world was which?


	7. Kindred

**Kindred**

* * *

_**December 25th, 2008 2:38 am**_

_She was alone, and nothing frightened her more. Her body was hot and drenched in sweat. No, it was stickier than perspire and smelled coppery; tasted coppery. It was blood. Her world was spinning, her heart racing as her body ached. Her raw lips parted as if she might scream, but that's when she felt it. The cold grip of reality was crushing her windpipe, choking the life from inside her. But that was wrong, too, because it wasn't her reality. The cold snare making her wheeze had a much more tangible form as she scratched the hard surface with desperate fingernails. 'Get it off…' That was the first thought that came to mind as her touch grew frantic. Chains. Tungsten chains and a collar that, no matter how brightly she burned, wouldn't weaken. _

_'Onii-san... King-sama...'_

_ Tears made their way down her dirty cheeks to meet her bared grimace. No matter how wide she parted her jaws, no sound would come from inside her, and every time she tried, her bindings tightened until she was choking. She didn't know what was keeping her conscious when she considered that asphyxiation should have come long ago, and she didn't know if that was mercy or a curse._

_'Tatara...'_

_ The raw power she'd experienced, the reassurance of unwavering companionship, the comfort of days past seemed so far away. She could hear the screaming and crying of other women from someplace nearby but not close enough for her to watch their faces contort. She sealed her eyes, her bitter tears hot on her face as her heart silently begged for help that couldn't come. She was alone in this cold, dark place, the light of hope far from her reach._

_'Please help me.'_

The scream that Neirah couldn't release in her dream was booming as she crashed forward into the reality she'd known before falling asleep that night. Her breathing was broken and laboured as she panted her devastated terror in an empty bed that she'd long since tossed the sheets from on top. She was sticky with sweat as she came out of sleep. No, she blinked back her frightened tears and brought her eyes into focus on the sight of Tatara's warm smile. Sweat had doused her, but her perspiration wasn't what was sticky in the palm of her hands. It was blood.

The shrill sound of steel rattling against the floor at her bedside nearly deafened her in the once-quiet room. "Tatara!" she wailed in alarm. She withdrew her hand, comprehending that she'd been responsible for splitting his side open with the knife she kept beneath her pillow. Neirah immediately began to fuss, to hold her hand against the slowly trickling wound, but in the end, Tatara took her hands in his and held them between their bodies.

Tatara remained as steady as he could as he warmed her frigid touch in his, her heart with his dedicated smile. "Hey, why so serious?" he whispered tenderly. She was shaking violently and still trying to sort through the images in her dreams compared to the ones left before her. It seemed like she was trying to decide which were more frightening. "Don't worry. It's just a scratch, I promise. It'll be okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tat-chan, I didn't mean-" Her wild gaze stared past his fingers as he held them to her face to keep her trembling lips from spewing unnecessary apologies.

"It's okay," he repeated calmly. He brought their gazes together and reclaimed Neirah's shaky hands in his to reassure her. She was lost somewhere between worlds, and he could feel her confusion, so he anchored her. "They can't hurt you now."

Neirah's bright gaze wavered and then swelled with uncontainable emotion. When Tatara released her fingers, she wrapped her arms around his waist and dropped her head against his chest. It sounded like she may have been trying to say something, but in the end, her sentiment drowned in her sorrow.

His bloody hand raised and stroked the back of her head as she shuddered in his arms, her weak fingers clutching his shirt as they climbed his shoulders. No matter how badly the dampness on her bare arms burned his wound, he didn't flinch or whine. She needed something to hold onto at that moment, something tangible and real to remind her that she was where she belonged.

It was strange, moments before she woke, he walked into the small room on fire. He might have reached her sooner if he hadn't been staggered by the brilliance. Wild flames curled around the room like they struggled, imprisoned between the walls that she could have easily ignited. But as he slowly turned his head to face where her walls littered with a collection of familiar faces, his once smiling expression faltered. The images were few and far between, but there were a few pictures posted haphazardly. She didn't have a lot of space in the room that he'd cleared out in his apartment for her, but she made the best use of the area by filling it with images of their friends. There wasn't a single scorch mark on anything or any of the photos. Despite her subconscious release of power, nothing around her seemed damaged except him.

And she was so cold. Her skin was cold to the touch as Tatara held her rattled body tightly in his embrace. She was scared, her tears the only warmth he felt her radiate despite the realization that she was burning alone in her room, not a moment past. "It was just a bad dream," he whispered against her crown.

"Tat-chan, you're bleeding," she whimpered tremulously. "I hurt you. I-"

"It's fine," he reassured her gently on repeat. "It'll all work out."

They laid in the very centre of her bed with their foreheads braced and arms around each other as she sobbed well into the morning. Tatara knew this because he stayed awake the entire time. It was growing harder for him to protect the woman that she was becoming, and in tender moments such as the one that night, he had seen the return of the frightened girl that he held in the alley the night they met. Izumo pushed her to excel, praising her successes to remind her that she was capable. However, in exhausting her to do so, her active mind was beginning to retake hold of her.

There were two very different beasts dwelling within the small body he held tightly against his warmth, and they were fighting to be the last one standing. Neirah didn't show her fear or apprehension to many people, but bottling it up inside was proving to be destructive. It reminded him of… someone else he knew, someone that she became more like each passing day. It was most notably the reason why Izumo was so bitter that Mikoto had welcomed the woman into their lives. Tatara understood that she wanted to be brave and prove her worth to her new family, but she had to learn that being weak was okay too. Nobody was invincible, not even kings. But what he feared most was that when Neirah decided she would stay, she also promised to surrender everything human inside and step into a new role. It made him wonder what it was she thought she had to prove and to who.

Coddling her, protecting her, that wasn't the answer either. The feeling of helplessness was one of the many scars on her heart. She needed to find her strength, but she couldn't take a stand on her own. Loneliness was one of her greatest fears, and this left Tatara with a rather tricky predicament. If she were a bird, it would be a matter of holding her or letting her fly, but she could do neither without suffering. And it wasn't as easy as asking her what she needed because it was clear that she didn't know. She was lost, and when she hurt, he hurt. Since the beginning, they connected, and that bond only strengthened once she had joined their ranks. So, maybe that meant that if he smiled, she could smile too.

In the end, he just stayed by her side and hoped that if he stayed there forever, somehow, that would be enough.

* * *

December 26th, 2008

Hollow clacking sounded on the cold pavement with every steady stride. Neirah hadn't been in any particular rush to be anywhere, and it showed in her carefree strut. Her body swayed slowly from one side to the other like a charmed snake, and her frozen hands burrowed deep into her cropped, leather jacket pockets to hide them from the frosty December flurry.

She delighted in the attention of civilians watching her pass by, the deep clatter of her boots announcing her majestic presence as they parted nervously in her wake. Her mouth was glossy with strawberry flavouring as she pursed her full lips and exhaled, a gentle cloud of condensation forming in front of her tan face. When she was with her pride, she was a hunter, and everything scurrying by her feet was prey. She was indestructible.

Her next blink was languid as she shifted her gaze, taking in her surroundings alertly and scattering nervous onlookers with the intensity of her leer. It had been a technique she'd picked up from her king. Another languid blink had her smoky eyes adjusting back towards her front, and just beneath her cheekbones, fresh ink had framed the sharp angle of her eyes in tiny acute symbols.

It had been almost a month since she'd last visited Izumo's bar, HOMRA. By Izumo's request, she dedicated the last bit of her second semester to studying and picking up the marks that she had let slide just before summer. As painful as it had been, she managed and walked away, somewhat proud of the results. But she was ready for things to go back to normal. She had understood the importance of education, but nothing would bring her more joy than being with her family over the winter break. Something about being away from them felt wrong and left her empty.

"I still can't believe he hasn't made a move yet." Rikio's impatience growled from behind the confident stride of the woman in front of him. He left his hands in his pockets as he spat his cigarette from between his lips and let it smoke its last breaths on the pavement behind them. "What the hell's he waiting for anyway? I wish Kusanagi-san would just let us-" Rikio caught his harsh words in his throat and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, stuttering over his sentiment as he tried to censor its emission. "Well, y' know- He went and messed with Mikoto-san, right? So, why're we lettin' him off the hook?"

Neirah scoffed lightly and tipped her head over her shoulder, a flirtatious shimmer in her deep azure gaze as she smiled back at him expressively. "It's alright," she purred in a sultry tone. "You should know better than to tip-toe around me, Kamamoto-kun. You know I can appreciate an honest man."

His full cheeks coloured for a moment just beneath the white frames of his shades before he eagerly slammed his balled fist into his opposing palm with a bitter curse. "I just wish he'd let us beat the crap out of that bastard for what he did to Chitose!"

From where he'd walked aside the pair with both hands deep in his jacket pockets, Saburōta gave a couple of stern nods to agree. "He was bad news," he concluded thoughtfully. The only thing expressive about his gesture was his supportive head-nod because the rest of his features remained hidden beneath his effects. "And now that we know what he's all about, we're just gonna let him do whatever he wants?"

"Easy boys," Neirah drawled casually. "_Whatever he wants _seems to be nothing, for now, so let him be. He knows that SCEPTRE4 has labelled him a fugitive, so he'll be treading lightly from here on out." She rattled with the chill of another icy gust climbing up her bare spine, and she'd begun to wish her favourite coat was a little longer. "Besides, it seems whoever was pulling his strings before has cut ties. They probably weren't all too keen on his failure."

"So, you think Kusanagi-san is right?" Rikio pried curiously. "You think he was with those «JUNGLE» clowns?"

Neirah closed her eyes and spoke. "I would say that the chances of that aren't low."

"I can't believe the blues let him get out from under them," Saburōta quipped sourly before turning up his nose. "They like to think they're runnin' a pretty tight ship, and then they go let a guy like that slip away. Those king-less idiots don't have a damn clue what they're doin' anymore."

Neirah nodded vacantly in agreement. "It seems like they're preoccupied for the time being. It's been a pretty quiet couple of months so that probably means that somebody's about to make a move." Her muscles reacted to her anxiety as they tightened with the need to lash out at the man responsible for hurting her friend. "And when they do, we'll be ready."

"I wish I had your kind of control, Nē-chan," Rikio rumbled gruffly. "You had that bastard right there in front of you, and you were still able to keep it together. I woulda busted his damn head open."

"Control, huh?" she murmured vacantly through her chattering teeth. She found it ironic that Rikio praised her for something so foreign. If she'd had enough power the day that she met Goya Eiko, she would have destroyed him for daring to cross HOMRA. However, something else came out of the encounter that she may have been able to thank him for instead. She tipped her keen smile over her shoulder to where Saburōta puffed out a humid breath as he scoured the bustling streets on her opposing side. If it weren't for her scuffle with the Strain, they might not have returned with their newest addition. She supposed that was the only reason why she wasn't pressuring Izumo to let her hunt the man down.

Neirah flinched when Rikio's arms wrapped around her, and when she opened her eyes, she felt the warmth of his coat spread through her. She tipped her head back until she was looking straight up at him with a surprised pout on her glossy lips. "Kamamoto-kun?"

Rikio's gentle smile reassured her while he spoke, releasing his bomber-style jacket in her care. "I know you really hate the cold," he assured her kindly. "That's what you get for bein' skin and bones. Maybe you should find warmer clothes to wear around this time of year."

Her cheeks innocently flushed as she wrapped her arms across her breasts and clutched the sides of his offering against her body contentedly. The shelter carried his warmth, their warmth. It must have appeared strange that she seemed to be the only one who didn't radiate heat from the inside out. "I suppose it must seem weird for a member of HOMRA to be cold all the time."

Rikio tossed his thumb over his shoulder with a brusque snort. He motioned to where Saburōta had his arms folded over his chest, trying his best to keep from freezing in one place as they trudged like it was through three feet of snow and uphill both ways. "Not _that_ weird."

Saburōta slid his sharp gaze beneath the protection of his sunglasses until he could glare back at his comrade's mockery. "D-don't screw with me, man," he threatened through chattering teeth. "Some of us don't have that extra layer; if ya know what I mean."

Rikio hitched one fist on his hip with a dry snort as he returned Saburōta's intensity from behind shades of his own. "Oh yeah? Just what are ya tryin' to say?"

Neirah rolled her eyes over her subtle grin but didn't bother trying to separate the two. As passionately as they postured, she knew that neither of them had it in them to take their frustrations out on one another. That may have been what she found so entertaining about the way people stopped to stare. To the public, they must have looked like Red Devils, the lot of them. But beneath the flames, kind hearts continued to beat. Sometimes it was just harder to see.

"Hey there, hot stuff. Why don't you ditch those losers and roll with us for a while?"

Neirah halted, her gaze tapering on the sidewalk ahead even though her companions already glared daggers at the men lingering behind. She puffed out an exasperated sigh as she felt the tension at her back become tangible. Red Devils, the lot of them.

"Did someone just cat-call HOMRA's Lioness?" Rikio rumbled venomously.

"And they did it while we were standing right here," a hostile Saburōta added. From behind dark sunglasses, his gaze cut narrow and the gentle flicker of his aura spilled around his crawling fingers at his side. "Suddenly, I'm not so cold anymore."

Even though Neirah could feel her fist clench in the material of Rikio's coat, she endured the need to react impulsively. "Don't pay them any mind," she quietly instructed. "It _is_ the day after Christmas." The lower half of her face was concealed behind Rikio's heavy collar as she turned her deadly leer over her shoulder to peek at the three men responsible for disrupting her pleasant jaunt. "A day for hungover singles to drown in their self-pity." She deliberately raised her voice to infuriate the dogs and then casually turned her back on them. "They aren't worth our time."

Rikio scoffed with disgust and turned away from where the trio had begun to clamour irately against the building. "See? There you go again with all that self-control. I don't know how you do it, Nē-chan."

"They'd probably look better without any teeth," Saburōta bit out edgily. He supposed it might have seemed moot for him to act so defensively over the woman that saved his life over the summer, but something about that was also the reason he felt indebted to the beauty. It was because he respected and revered her that he turned away. If she wanted him to bite, he would, but if she wanted him to back off, he would loyally heel to her command. "But if you say so."

Neirah smiled fondly to herself as she began to lead them away, her chest warm with the swell of pride and belonging within. That lovely sentiment was peaceful until it had been crudely interrupted by the drunken delinquents at their backs.

"Fucking skank!"

_Until the little skank went and knifed my own boys._

Before Rikio and Saburōta grasped what happened, Neirah had clutched the throwing knife at her tailbone and whirled on her heels. Rikio's jacket unfurled behind her like a cloak beneath a curtain of soft auburn waves, and as soon as she rotated, she released her dart towards the gathering.

The comment almost seemed innocent and immature coming from grown men, but Neirah's wide eyes burned with passionate loathing as she acted swiftly and without sound. The trio scattered, leaving the guilty party to whimper his terror when the knife connected with his popped collar and then proceeded to pin him to the brick behind.

"Whoa, nice shot, Onē-san," Saburōta marvelled fondly with an impish snicker. "An inch to the left and he'd be dead."

Neirah's intense gaze narrowed as she scoffed beneath her breath. "How clumsy of me."

The man trembled in place, his gaze locked on the woman who managed to drive a narrow knife into the rock behind him. Taking a moment to inspect the damage, he returned his petrified gaze towards the calm trio in front of him, their piercing gazes hot with a deadly warning. That was when the man noticed that beneath the heavy jacket she'd borrowed, a red and black tribal mark accented her breast.

"H-HOMRA?" he staggered meekly. "T-that means-!"

"Bandō, baby, could you go get that for me?"

At her command, Saburōta's expression morphed wickedly with conceit. He loped to where the man was trying to slink into the wall for escape and reached out to wrap his hand around Neirah's golden dart. "Hope you learned something today." There was a threat in Saburōta's tone as he jerked on the projectile to release it. However, their victim seemed to remain paralyzed by fear. To the sight of him lingering, Saburōta shrugged his shoulders, folded his fist around Neirah's knife and drove his knuckles into the man's teeth. When the man's skull bounced on the brick and caused him to collapse in agony on the ground, he snickered deviously. "Well, some people are slow learners."

Neirah didn't shift her intense gaze from the sight of the man writhing in pain on the street as Saburōta rejoined them and laid the knife in her open palm like a puppy delivering the newspaper to his master. "No matter how you define that word, it doesn't describe me in the slightest," she casually informed the moaning mass. "I'm a straightforward kind of girl, and my heart belongs only to HOMRA. Any questions?"

The crawling bloke was moments from trying to flee when Rikio knelt and palmed his splitting skull, forcibly raising his attention towards the woman he'd just insulted. "You'll apologize to Tsukiyo-san now," he commanded lowly. When the hound didn't speak up, Rikio released a low growl from within his chest and flexed his fiery grip with dark promise. "What'd I just say, huh?"

The trembling thug raised his gaze to where she cocked a brow expectantly, and his sobered demeanour had done its best to nod. "S-so sorry. My mistake."

Rikio scoffed and dropped the man onto the concrete, raising to rejoin his companions as they stepped through the gathering crowd with Neirah at their lead. Thanks to the blood rush of their little tussle, Saburōta stopped shivering in the cold. Instead, he'd been all fired up and anxious to finish what they'd started. Unfortunately, engaging in tiffs with civilians was as unsatisfying as it was against the rules. As scary as the three were who were making their exit, they had something more frightening waiting for them back home if they decided to get out of hand.

They'd walked in silence for a moment to vacate the premise of the scene they'd caused when Rikio finally spoke. "Oi, Bandō? Did she just call you-?"

A blushing Saburōta didn't even let him finish his sentence. "Please don't tell Kusanagi-san..."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Izumo raised his head to the sound of three familiar faces entering his bar. "Well, well," he mocked playfully. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Lion-chan," Tatara corrected spiritedly. "Nei-chan is our lioness, right, King?" He laughed when Mikoto grunted his indifference.

"Wow, it's been a while," Masaomi proclaimed as she approached the bar between him and Yō. "I'm not used to not seeing you for so long. How'd your exams go? Did you kill it?" His expression altered suddenly when he came to rest his curious gaze on the sight of the dark lines tattooed just beneath her thick lashes. He gave his glasses a wiggle to make sure he didn't see things that weren't there. "Oi, is that makeup or did you...?"

Neirah closed her eyes and smiled at his keen observation. "Dewa-kun, since when do you know me to wear a lot of makeup?"

Masaomi stammered absently, his brain working out the best response to avoid injury. "Well-"

"Did it hurt?"

From where she lingered, Neirah's brow cocked to one side at the sound of Yō's casual inquiry. "Chitose-kun, today is not the day," she cautioned him. "If you follow that with _when you fell from heaven_, I _will_ maim you."

Yō's cheekbones ignited with humiliated disappointment as he diverted his gaze and justified his interrogation. "I meant the tattoos; on your face. It looks like they're in a delicate spot, that's all."

Masaomi gave a bright snigger. "That certainly wasn't a very angelic thing to say."

"Piss off," Yō bitterly barked back.

Noticing the lingering tension of the conflict the trio barely managed to shrug off, Izumo blinked at Neirah curiously. "D' something happen?"

Before anyone else could speak up, Neirah hummed to life and thrust some test results onto the bar before sliding them down to where he caught them. "Actually, yes," she assured him curtly. "I do believe these will be to your liking, Onii-san."

After a cursory reading, Izumo forgot his interrogation for the moment. "Well, I'll be," he mused vocally. "That ninety in history is pretty sharp. Ninety-two in language, not surprising." He tipped his gaze down his bar towards Masaomi wryly. "I guess the eighty-four in economics is alright too."

Masaomi climbed to his feet and threw his hands down flat against the bar top. "Alright?! We spent a week getting ready for that test!"

"If I'd've brought home just one eighty-four in high school, my parents would have been ecstatic," Yō casually supported.

Izumo smiled proudly and returned the papers to the bar. "See? I knew you could do it if you just stuck with it."

Neirah turned between Yō and Masaomi, putting her palms against the edge of the bar before hoisting herself onto its polished surface. "I just hope you know that was the most miserable two weeks of my life. And that should carry some weight coming from someone who's been cursed for the majority of their life."

"Bleeding hearts," Izumo refuted nonchalantly. "Take it to someone who cares and keep your butt off the bar."

Neirah puffed out an exasperated sigh and began to bounce her toes as she watched a new face step through the bar door. When Tatara approached the man with a friendly smile, she felt her face knot.

"Oh! And this is Nei-chan! Right. She wasn't here when you joined because she was busy with her studies." Tatara announced kindly, redirecting the young man's gaze. Neirah couldn't help but harden to the idea of new blood coming around without her hearsay. "She's our only female member at the moment, and-"

Neirah's sharp tone had cut into their conversation unexpectedly. "Hold on. What do you mean, _at the moment_?"

Tatara flinched as Neirah popped off the bar and started towards him, his arm rotating to avoid disturbing the laceration bandaged secretly beneath his shirt. "Nei-chan, this is Tanaka-"

"Nice to meet you," she rushed out rudely. "And when I say nice to meet you, I mean, I couldn't care less." She shrugged. "Semantics."

"Whoa, Onē-san, that was kinda harsh," Saburōta murmured nervously through a meek smile.

Tatara had blinked at her aggressive interruption. "Nei-chan, are you alright?"

"Don't _Nei-chan_ me," she scolded. "What do you mean when you say _at the_-?" Neirah's gaze widened when the sight of a silver-haired child peeked around the bar at her from where she'd felt safest. Neirah's words locked behind her lips and the sensation filled her with a little anxiety after the nightmare she suffered before that afternoon. "What- what is that...?"

"My sentiment exactly," Mikoto rumbled sternly from where he sat.

Neirah froze when the doll-like child moved, like the fact that it was a living, breathing creature had taken her by surprise. The motion was small, due to the bar concealing half of it, but what made her brow crease was the sight of the child observing her though a small glass bead. As a result, the girl made a slight chirping noise and then proceeded to flee the woman's sights.

Neirah blinked inanely at the space that had just vacated and her stomach was in all kinds of knots. "I-" Her gaze finally broke and dropped to the floor. "Did I- What just happened?"

"Jealousy's an ugly shade," Izumo crooned keenly from the other side of the bar. His words caused Neirah to whirl and face him squarely, hoping he'd offer her an explanation along with his sarcasm. "This is Kushina Anna. She's the little niece of Kushina Honami, an old high school teacher of ours."

"And what is she doing in a bar... and a clan's base of operations?"

"Visiting."

Neirah's blinks were long and drawn out as she tried to process the information offered. "Oh," came her stony retort.

"Kusanagi-san is babysitting," Tatara teased. "It's kind of a long story."

"Well, let me know when the book comes out."

Tatara's expression dropped when Neirah turned to leave as quickly as she'd come. "Nei-chan, is something wrong?" Tatara reached out like he might have tried to stop her, but in the end, he ended up causing himself pain and lowering his arm so he wouldn't aggravate his wound any further.

"Neirah!" Rikio barked urgently. He groaned under his breath and turned to chase after her. "Hey, wait up!"

Saburōta stepped forward like he may have wanted to follow them, but Izumo's words had staggered his progress.

"You shouldn't chase after a woman scorned," Izumo cautioned evenly. "That's a dangerous place to be. She's pretty tight with Kamamoto, but even then, I don't expect that to end well."

Saburōta dropped his gaze miserably in response.

_Hm?_ Izumo tipped his gaze to where Anna was tugging on his pant leg and holding her crimson marble out for him to see. "What is it, Anna?"

"That woman is not cursed."

Izumo almost lost the cigarette from between his lips. "Eh? You don't think so?"

Anna replied by slowly shaking her head. "No. She's just red."

He smiled softly and turned his eyes towards the door Neirah had just exited as the gazes of their elite congregated around Anna's confident announcement. "You don't say..."

* * *

"I… found you." Rikio dropped his hands to his knees to brace himself as he panted in place. "Chasing after you was so much easier in the summer," he grumbled exasperatedly. He raised his head to face where Neirah sat on a concrete partition and when he did, she was hastily dabbing out a half-burnt cigarette. The realization startled him at first. "N-Neirah... since when do you smoke?"

Neirah parted her guilty lips to answer, but the response came from behind the post at her back when her mirrored bangle reached out and waved a pack of cigarettes towards Rikio's observation. "Sorry. That was my fault."

"Chitose? How did you-?"

Yō poked his head out from around the pillar with a wicked beam. "How is it that I left after you and still managed to beat you here?"

Rikio's lips twisted into an impatient pout as he continued his approach. "Kusanagi-san won't be very happy if he finds out about this."

Yō didn't seem concerned as he disappeared at Neirah's back and tipped his head against the concrete behind him. "You wanna be the one who tells him?"

Rikio startled, his entire body tensing at the mere consideration. "I-I'm just sayin'!" he whined. "He'll notice if she comes back smelling like smoke."

"Relax." Neirah interrupted him in a meek voice while popping a candy between her teeth. "He hasn't noticed yet, has he? This isn't the first time it's happened…"

Rikio's tone weakened fretfully with her sudden reveal. "But Neirah..."

She raised her gentle eyes towards her friend before patting the place next to her to invite his company. "It's fine. It'll all work out, right?" Just as Rikio took the seat offered to him, Yō stood and repositioned himself. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he leaned against the pillar on the other side of the woman with his cigarette still draped between his lips as he watched the ring of smoke climb in the crisp December air.

"See, it's better when you pick up Totsuka's habits instead," Rikio pestered lightly.

Yō tipped his gaze over his shoulder to the sound of the woman's gentle chortle.

"Is it though?" she murmured dimly. "Is it better in any sense when I'm this impressionable?"

"What d' you mean by that?" Yō drawled around his light.

She sighed and let her gaze drop towards the crispy, frost-nipped weeds poking up through the cracks in the pavement. "It doesn't seem to matter what I do. Onii-san is never pleased."

"H-hey! Come on, Neirah. You know that's not true!" Rikio defended sadly. "He was pretty happy with your test results today."

"This isn't about what makes him happy," she nearly whispered. "It's about who I am as a person; what I would go through to be right." She raised her gaze with a small, desperate smile and watched the sun begin to vanish over the metropolis. She wasn't even sure what was right anymore. "When I looked at that child back at the bar today, it hit me like a bullet train." Reaching down to caress the bracelet around her wrist, she slouched a second time. "It made me realize that the kind of person I am would be a terrible influence on somebody else."

Rikio lowered his voice, vitally concerned with the way the woman's voice had cracked with emotion. Until that moment, nobody other than Tatara had ever really connected that deeply with her. None of what she said seemed to take Yō by surprise, and he figured that was because he'd already gotten a similar story before Rikio managed to arrive. After a moment of silence, he scrambled to come up with a defence to help his friend see the situation differently. "Who cares about how a little kid sees you?" he stated rhetorically. "It's not like she's gonna be hanging around all the time, or anythin'."

"It was the way Totsuka said it," Yō stated evenly by her side. "That she was our only female member _at the moment_."

"It's no surprise that this life isn't for just anyone, much less a woman." She raised her uncertain gaze toward the glowing horizon. "But I'm not the one who decides who comes or goes. Right now, I guess I'm kind of like HOMRA's big sister. If King-sama did welcome other girls, they would all look up to me for guidance and strength. How could I inspire them when I can't even figure out who I am?"

The extending silence had become so awkward that Rikio started to sweat despite the chill in the air.

Yō interrupted the silence with a deep exhale and tapped the ashes from the end of his cigarette. "I told her that she should probably talk to Totsuka about something like this."

The pair flinched with surprise when Rikio climbed to his feet and turned to stare at them both unquestionably. "You're Tsukiyo Neirah, HOMRA's hunter, the Red Lioness. You _are_ like our big sister, and we all look up to you. I just said it today, didn't I? That I wish I had your kind of control? I respect that about you. And Kusanagi-san is always saying that if you get anything from Totsuka-san, he hopes it's his easygoing attitude because it's kinda inspiring sometimes." Rikio tossed his arm out to keep their attention and release some of the stiffness he'd held over his concern for her situation. "So what if you smoke every now and then? Who says you got that from Chitose? You could have picked that up without knowing any of us."

He turned his uneasy blush away from where their expressions seemed to stare at him, dumbfounded by his passion. "I-I'm just sayin'... How can you tell if you're picking up our habits if you don't know what kind of person you'd be if you never met us? I mean... where would you be without us? Where would any of us be? Would we be better off or-?"

He grunted breathlessly with the impact of Neirah crashing into his tailbone and wrapping her arms around his girth. "N-Nē-chan?"

Even though Neirah felt the warning of tears making the back of her eyes burn, they didn't fall. Instead, the face she buried against Rikio's lower back was smiling brightly. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"Y-you did?" He blushed when she nodded her head against him, but when he turned to oppose the sight, he smiled and calmly raised his hand to where hers linked around him. "That's good then, right?"

Yō dropped the flickering butt of his cigarette to the ground and smothered it's burning end beneath the toe of his shoe. "I guess anyone would be depressed if they always compared themselves to their own ideal expectation. But who's ideal is it?" He closed his eyes and dropped his head. "You're right, Kusanagi-san would be pissed if he found out Nē-chan was bummin' smokes off me, but I think it's cute." He flinched when the pair turned their vacant expressions towards him in accusation.

"No matter how you look at it, you're the bad influence here," Rikio rumbled defensively.

"Okay, I get it." Yō's defence was almost musical as he diverted his guilty expression and waved his hands out in front of him. "Just tryin' to help."

"Thank you," Neirah crooned upon releasing her companion. "Both of you. Even just for chasing after me." She lowered her gaze towards her feet with a reserved smile. "And not just today, but the days you saved me too." Looking at Rikio, she continued. "If I had of hit the ground that night we met, I probably would have broken every bone in my body." Then she turned to Yō, watching him shove one of his hands back in his pocket. "And if it weren't for you and Dewa-kun showing up when you did, Goya would have crushed me for sure." She smiled bashfully to the thought. "Kamamoto-kun wonders where we'd be if we weren't here, but I think that no matter how you look at it, we're better off this way." She laughed for her amusement of the situation. "And I'm going to need all the help I can get to face my biggest challenge yet."

Yō snorted his sardonic chortle. "You mean Anna?" Neirah turned her desperate gaze to face him with a timid smile and held out a folded sheet of paper from her jacket pocket. On the top, right-hand corner of the fold pattern was a circle, and once he realized that she was holding out a science assignment, he flinched in mortification. "The hell?! Is that a zero?! How'd you manage to get a zero on a-" He twitched slightly as his gaze traversed the blank page. "Y-you... didn't even try..."

"Would one of you-?"

"No way!" Yō swiftly denied. "You're on your own with that one."

* * *

It was late when Neirah finally managed to swallow her pride and return to HOMRA with her tail between her legs. At first, she had attempted to sneak in behind Rikio, but that failed. Izumo hadn't even bothered to look up from where he was drying a glass as he spoke. "She's not here anymore."

Rikio and Neirah flinched in unison before Rikio raised his arm and peeked beneath it to meet Neirah's guilty pout.

"Busted," Yō murmured casually upon entry.

Izumo smiled and finally turned to face their arrival. "And if you're here for Totsuka, I'm afraid he and Mikoto just left. They shouldn't be too long, though." His gaze followed Neirah's miserable stride until she pulled up next to Masaomi at the bar and dropped her chin against the top of it. "So Neirah, I couldn't help but notice one of your assignments was-" His smile hadn't faded as she held out the piece of paper that she'd been trying to pawn off on her friends earlier that afternoon. The silence grew intense enough that Masaomi shifted quietly in his seat next to her with unease.

Finally, Izumo spoke in a calm, even tone. "I see."

"Can I have some tea, Onii-chan?" Her tone was docile and soft as she subliminally begged his forgiveness. "It's... today was a bad day."

He seemed like he was going to fight her, at first, but in the end, his smile returned, and he bowed his head in surrender. "I'll go put the kettle on," he approved. "Bandō told me that you three had a little scuffle earlier today. You two wanna tell me a bit about that?"

"Not really," she moaned.

Rikio was quick to leap to their defence and justify their actions. "Those jerks disrespected Tsukiyo-san, so we roughed 'em up a bit to show 'em that they can't just go around sayin' anything they damn well please!"

Izumo turned his calm expression back to Neirah. "S' that true?"

Neirah flopped her head to one side, laying it on the arm Masaomi rested on the bar like she was drawing assurance from his steady indifference. "Nobody died."

Izumo heaved a sigh like it took an effort to be that unamused. "Neirah, you know better. We can't just go around bustin' up civilians because they don't worship the ground we walk on."

"I know," she whined upon straightening. "And I tried my hardest to walk away. I just..." The memories cycled through her head again and dampened her mood even further. "They reminded me of someone, that's all."

"All these rumours floatin' around out there about the Red Monster, the Red Lioness, people are gonna think I'm runnin' a bloody zoo on the side."

"I'm sorry," she squeaked.

"Nah, it's fine. It could be worse."

Rikio diverted his attention, discouraged that he couldn't do more to help pick up his friend's spirits. When Tatara was around, she never seemed to stop smiling, but the moment she was from his side, she was a beautiful mess. As his thoughts wandered, he raised his gaze to look out the front door, his expression darkening apprehensively. "Y-yo, what's with all the kids outside."

The remainder of their company turned their consideration toward the front of the building when Rikio's hesitancy beckoned it. "Kids?" Izumo murmured curiously.

Neirah's eyes widened as their fleeting attention darted around the faces of the growing crowd. "That's a little strange. This part of town isn't usually that busy, let alone for a bunch of middle schoolers."

"That's not an inaccurate statement," Izumo agreed. "I wonder what they want. Kind of an unsettling sight." His gaze narrowed with his analysis as he watched the youths meander around like their phones were guiding their mechanical strides. "That can't be good for business..."

Neirah's body tightened, her nails sinking into her palm against the bar as her theory synced with Izumo's subconsciously. "You don't think-"

Izumo turned his gaze back to where she had announced the suspicion on everyone's mind. "Now, now, don't make that face," he cautioned her sternly. "What'd I just finish saying, huh?"

"Okay, so we can't beat 'em off with a stick," Yō growled impatiently. "We can still ask them to leave."

Masaomi raised from his seat at the bar and approached Rikio's side. "That's true. That much is justified, at least. Kusanagi-san's right. People aren't going to want to fight off a crowd of ankle-biters just for a drink."

As soon as Neirah stood, Izumo spoke without redirecting his gaze her way. "You stay put," he ordered. "You're in no state of mind to be the diplomat."

With ignited cheeks, she turned her displeased gaze to face her superior. "That's an unfair statement," she murmured dryly. "I just administer diplomacy that you can feel."

"Yeah, stop it."

"Fiiine."

Rikio opened the door slowly, unsure of what to expect on the other side as Masaomi took the first step past the threshold, quickly followed by Yō. "What the hell is this?" Yō muttered impatiently. "It's seriously nothin' but kids."

Masaomi growled impatiently and attempted to shoo the crowd away. "Oi, beat it! You're interfering with business."

Rikio nodded once in agreement. "It's almost midnight," he reasoned. "You kids seriously wanna get in trouble for being out this late? Why don't you be good girls and boys and get home to bed?"

Masaomi tensed, a sense of unease overcoming him as he watched their warning go unheeded. "They're all just... staring at their phones."

"Kids these days," Yō growled. "You think they'd take the _Red Monster's_ clansmen more seriously."

From inside the bar, at the stroke of midnight, Neirah's alert gaze widened next to the cooling tea she'd been too wound to sip. "Onii-chan," she nearly whispered. "Look."

Izumo raised his wary gaze and immediately knotted his brow to the sight of the students outside of their headquarters, the crowd adorning eerie white masks as they began to make a ruckus. "The hell is goin' on out there?"

Neirah ground her teeth defensively, her thighs tight with the need to spring into action. "It has to be them," she muttered grimly. "And when King-sama isn't here to scare them all off. What a pain..." She flinched when he shifted uneasily and then decided to cross over to the other side of his bar. That was how she knew things were genuinely unsettling.

"Neirah, you stay right there," he gently commanded. "Get hold of Totsuka and Mikoto. If things turn ugly, they should probably be nearby."

Neirah scrambled to her feet in alarm. "You don't think that Goya will show up, do you!?"

Izumo tipped his natural smile her way. "That won't be something for you to worry about if you do like I said and call Mikoto back."

She was filled with disdain the moment she watched Izumo step outside of the front doors, leaving her in the vacant bar all by her lonesome. Immediately, she felt empty, excluded. It was at that moment that she needed Tatara the most to tell her that everything would be alright, but for some reason, even though he was only a phone call away, she felt distanced from him. Without realizing just how distant, she failed to notice that before contacting him, her fingers were selecting her king's number from her mobile list.

Somewhere nearby, Mikoto looked down at his phone with a disgruntled hum of curiosity. He looked at the screen with a vexed expression to the flashing of an unknown caller.

"Who is it, King?" Tatara interrogated.

"Dunno," he rumbled briskly. Despite that, he still accepted the call and held the device to his ear. "Yo?"

"King-sama?"

Mikoto's expression slightly relaxed as he dismissed her formalities with the click of his tongue. "Tsk, how many time's do I have to tell you not to call me that, kid?"

Tatara's innocent inquiry tipped to one side. "Wait, _Nei-chan_?" Suddenly, he began to laugh energetically. "King you're terrible! You didn't even have Nei-chan's number stored in your PDA?!"

"Shut up."

Tatara stilled nervously with the impact of Mikoto's severity, and his expression lost all humour.

"They're what?" His sharp leer tipped into his peripherals impatiently as he reconsidered their route and the information his subordinate had just passed along. After a moment of listening to her nervous explanation, his reassuring declaration had confirmed his attention. "I'm on my way."


	8. Kid

**Kid**

* * *

Izumo struggled to restrain Rikio's wrath as the shattering of glass filled their ears among the pop of misdirected fireworks. The only thing that was more difficult than dealing with a possible clan war was dealing with a potential clan war that would use minors as pawns on their frontline.

"Cut that out, damn it!" Rikio thundered. "Kusanagi-san, we can't just let them get away with trashin' the place!"

Although inclined to agree in a moment of weakness, Izumo turned the man's aggravated raving into a lecture. "Calm down. They're just kids!" Albeit kids with a seriously misguided depiction of what was right and wrong.

Yō raised his forearm to shield his eyes from the debris filling the bar front. "Kids or not, destruction of public property is still a crime! Little bastards-" Alarmed, he whirled over his shoulder to the sound of Neirah's startled shriek within the bar. "Tsukiyo! Stay away from the windows!"

"Is this all just a game to them?!" Masaomi snapped from behind his coat sleeve. He coughed with the inhalation of the noxious firework remains that where meant to be used in a well-ventilated area.

A thundering roar had cut the air as Rikio continued to struggle for escape. "You brats! Just wait until Mikoto-san gets back!"

"Idiot! Don't threaten them!" Izumo stilled, relaxing his grip on the riled man in his arms when Rikio had, in turn, stopped making a fuss. "That's strange..."

"They're back on their damn phones again," Rikio growled.

"They seem to be doing whatever their PDAs tell them to," Masaomi noted carefully. "Must have been a change of plans."

"If that's the case, we should hack them all and tell them to go the fuck home," Yō growled impatiently. He spun around urgently and barked his worrisome command towards the building. "Nē-chan, you aren't hurt, are you?" Stricken by relief to the sight of her sitting safely by the bar, shaking her head, he clutched his shirt just above his chest. "Good, I wasn't looking forward to having dead kids on my conscience." He yelped immediately after speaking when Masaomi struck him over the head. "Ow! What the hell was that for?!"

Masaomi responded by hitting him a second time.

Ignoring the confrontation ensuing by his side, Izumo released his anxious comrade and straightened, instead taking notice that the gang of students in front of them had redirected their attention. "They seem to be distracted by something."

With a dim snort, Yō returned his gaze to their base manager as he itched his aching head. "Probably that kid on the skateboard earlier. He was yelling something about «JUNGLE» being hacked. He made a hell of a lot of noise, but no one seemed to take him seriously."

Tipping his observation over his shoulder at the damage done to his bar, Izumo sighed and withdrew a pack of cigarettes, dragging one to his lips so he could light it. The relief of his first deep inhale was a comfort desperately needed. "Guess we hit the nail on the head with that one. Wonder what they're after this time."

"I can't even leave for an hour without all hell breaking loose." Mikoto's dry smile was mischievous as he halted just short of their gathering with poise. "S' the matter? Can't handle a couple of kids on your own."

Izumo tipped his wry grin to where their king had joined their gathering with Tatara in tow. "Apparently not."

Shifting his gaze towards the dispersing crowd, Mikoto observed where the commotion stemmed from with obvious impatience. He raised his shoe and peeked at the coloured pieces of confetti beneath. "Looks like we just missed the party. Aren't they gonna clean up their mess before they go?" He picked his light from between his teeth and exhaled what remained. "Kids these days."

"We think somethin' else's caught their eye," Izumo mentioned in theory. "Chitose saw a couple of middle-schoolers slip around the back. They didn't seem to be rollin' with the rest of 'em."

"Do you think they were trying to prevent it from happening?" Tatara theorized soundly. "If that's the case, they could be in real trouble."

Izumo puffed on the end of his light before exhaling a settling cloud of smoke, and suddenly, the street adjacent to them ignited with celebration, or so it seemed. "These kids might as well be zombies. They aren't thinkin' about the consequences of their actions at all." He turned his concerned gaze towards their king. "We'll hold down the fort here. You go make sure nobody ends up seriously hurt for tryin' to do the right thing."

A low groan sounded in Mikoto's chest as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and crossed through the smoky cloud in front of his face on departure. "What a pain..."

Tipping his head after their king, Izumo addressed their resident beast tamer. "You go too, Totsuka. Make sure he doesn't get carried away."

"Roger that!" Tatara sang spiritedly with a casual salute. "Be back in a flash!"

Izumo stared after them mordantly, his brow knotted up with desperation as he worked to manage his anxiety over the whole ordeal. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Mikoto's unimpressed glower watched the street before him ignite in sparks that weren't his own, and something about that infuriated him. He could see where the fire was assembling, and it wasn't around him. In his burning eyes, the sight looked like a challenge. Somebody else was flaunting their power in his territory, the power of manipulation. In consideration of the audacity their enemies possessed, his body ignited.

He could hear the desperate sound of alarm rising into the night, and up ahead, he located the middle school students rumoured to be fighting against the tide. It was just as Izumo theorized. They didn't seem interested in the game at hand, and the drones following «JUNGLE»'s command were sore losers. The ground at his feet began to combust, leaving molten footprints in the street to cool behind him as his body burned.

"Misaki, run to him!"

_Hm?_ Mikoto's languid stride paused when a young man thrust his finger towards his approach, begging his friend to run toward the flames. That was strange enough, but what truly puzzled him was that the boy he commanded eagerly did as requested and ran towards the intense heat. During his flustered sprint, long chestnut bangs were dragged from his brow by the pressure of his advance, and Mikoto could see the glistening trail of frightened tears marking his charge. He would have pressed to consider the youth a middle school student if Izumo hadn't described him as such. Despite the apparent panic in the boy's tone, a casual Mikoto contemplated challenging his second's theory.

"Red Monster! Please help!"

Mikoto's senses perked keenly to the sound of the boy beckoning him in a desperate tone. Something about hearing a child beg a fiery monster for help intrigued him into taking an interest in his clamour. As such, he kept his gaze fixed on the clumsy youth's charge as the boy stumbled over his own feet and barrelled across the street towards him.

Misaki hadn't missed a beat as he durably scrambled to his knees in front of the burning man and begged his support. "P-please save him!" He threw out his arm from where he sat on his hands and knees, turning his tearful expression to the blaze as he pointed at his friend facing the challenging rain of fire. "Please save Saruhiko!"

Adjusting from the sight of his flames reflecting in the boy's fretful tears, Mikoto clenched his fist and raised his flaming arm with an incomprehensibly low warning beneath the sound of the roaring blaze. "I'm counting on you... Totsuka."

As the wave of flame encroached, the villainous students scattered, leaving one raven-haired boy to fall to his knees in acceptance of his fate. Saruhiko could hear his name ringing out into the night as the tears of his devastated comrade spilt onto the street littered with confetti and broken glass. He supposed it felt nice that someone would care if he left the world behind. It had been pleasant enough to draw a peaceful smile to his lips.

Suddenly, though, the screaming stopped. The roar of the flames subsided, and Saruhiko was still alive to take notice of it. He opened his eyes, comprehending that a stranger embraced him, and that seemed confusing. "I'm alive?"

"That was a pretty close call, wasn't it?" Tatara smiled and brushed back the dark bangs clung to Saruhiko's perspiring face. "You okay? Did your face get burnt?" He released the boy and circled his collapsed body to observe the damage. "Ah, your eyelashes got singed even behind your glasses. And it looks like you lost part of your eyebrow."

Tatara turned away and rested his hands on his hips. "King, you overdid it," he reprimanded. "That was way too flashy. Kusanagi-san told us to do our best to keep the decent kids from getting hurt."

'_King_,' Saruhiko thought distantly. '_The Red King?_'

Mikoto's gaze wandered nonchalantly between the pair left in front of them. "They look fine to me." He dropped his sights toward the blubbering mess at his side, focussing a little more intently on his recognition. "Any idea who they are?"

Tatara tipped his head to one side curiously. "I thought maybe you did, and that's why you saved them?"

"S-saru-hikooo..."

Tatara smiled his understanding as Misaki scrambled across the concrete and crashed into his friend with grateful tears in his eyes.

"I'm so glad," Misaki howled brokenly through all the desperate sniffling. "I'm so- Saruhiko... Things looked bad for a bit, and I- I was afraid that y-you'd die. I'm so glad you're okaaay!"

Saruhiko tilted his curious gaze towards where Tatara returned to offer another hand to their preservation. "Hey, you two, why don't you come back with us, and we'll clean your injuries for you? It's the least we can do after dragging you into our mess."

"You sure that's alright?" Mikoto instigated evenly. "Won't their parents be worried about them?" The silence extended as their concern fell on the pair of boys on the ground at their feet.

"We... we live alone," Saruhiko assured them quietly.

Tatara seemed surprised by this. "Really? But you're so young?"

"The kid was young when you found her, too," Mikoto instigated.

"Yeah, but not _this_ young!"

"You only see what you want to." Mikoto sighed and turned his disinterested leer back towards Saruhiko, who was still trying to pry a sobbing Misaki off of his leg. "Can you stand?"

Saruhiko flinched, intimidated by the unyielding man's mere presence, much less the detachment in his tone. "I-I think so."

"And your friend?"

Saruhiko groaned softly and took Misaki by the shoulders, forcing him from where he'd been desperate to hold onto the reality where his companion lived through the night. "Come on, knock it off," he pressured under his breath. "They're gonna help us."

When Misaki tipped his anguished expression towards Saruhiko, he felt somewhat vindicated. He was the first one to climb to his feet, and when Misaki had blinked his vision free of tears, he wiped his nose on his sleeve and took his friend's offered hand. The walk to HOMRA was strained and careful with the amount of litter scattered about in the street. They tried to get involved, and they'd failed. But in an attempt to shake up their world, the night hadn't been a complete loss.

By the time the four arrived, Izumo and Neirah had been the only two left in the bar. Luckily, that managed to take some of the pressure off the students to step through the doors.

"You seriously don't remember?" Izumo nagged impatiently. "We saw them his summer past. Y' know, the whole flaming-bottle incident."

Tatara tipped his diverted attention to one side with a sheepish smile. "Oh, wow. I almost forgot about that. That was right around the time Goya attacked Chitose, right?"

"Yeah, around that time."

"So «JUNGLE»... and HOMRA..." Saruhiko murmured vacantly. "You're rival gangs, then?"

Izumo seemed exhausted by the consideration. "Well, that's not an entirely inaccurate depiction, I guess. What I can tell you about us is that we're two groups with a king as our leader- a clan."

Saruhiko stared past the walls of the bar and lost himself in his thoughts for a moment until he felt Misaki tug on his shirt sleeve. _Hm?_ When he turned to face where Misaki jerked on the material of his shirt, the ginger's eyes had locked on something across the room. "What is it?"

"S-saru-sa-ru-hiko, th-there's a- there's a g-g-"

"A what? A ghost?"

Misaki's pale expression knotted up with instant mortification before he grew brave enough to reprimand his companion. "Don't say those kinds of things!" He reached out and grabbed hold of Saruhiko's face, redirecting his attention to where a lean young lady was sitting on top of the bar next to Izumo, her incredulous gaze piercing them irately. "I-it's… It's a g-girl."

Izumo shifted his unamused peripherals towards their venomous huntress. "Neirah, remember what I told you about jealousy?"

She boldly snorted her dissatisfaction. "Don't be ridiculous, Onii-chan."

"Finish your tea."

"It's cold."

"You drink it hot or cold."

"I'm vexed."

"_Vex_ somewhere else, then."

Saruhiko observed them curiously for a moment, Misaki taking cover behind him as the girl continued to leer. If what Izumo said was true and HOMRA was a gang or clan, he wondered if that meant the woman on the bar was also a member. She couldn't have been much older than they were. The other HOMRA members certainly had no aversions to discussing the circumstance with her nearby, and she was visibly too young to be a patron. "So, she's... your little sister?"

Misaki's whisper was timid as he cowered nervously from the sight. "Why is she so intense...?"

Izumo groaned and closed his eyes, picking Neirah up by her collar and settling her back onto the floor. "Sure, let's go with that." Ignoring Neirah's pouting, he shooed her away and returned his attention to the boys his king salvaged from the evening's circumstance. "Anyways, you kids should be careful who you go pickin' fights with, okay? You're lucky Mikoto and Totsuka were here to pull you out of this one alive."

Saruhiko dropped his gaze sheepishly, the scar of his loss still weighing his heart as he expressed his gratitude. "Thank you... for saving us, that is."

Tatara frivolously laughed off the sincerity of the boy's statement. "Ah! It was no trouble! We were glad to have helped."

Neirah listened to the way the room had grown silent around her, and finally, she couldn't take the pressure anymore. Knowing what came next, she couldn't help but reach out and grab hold of Tatara's collar to drag him across the bar floor. "U-uh, Nei-chan?"

"We're leaving," she commanded firmly.

_E-eh?!_

"Goodnight Onii-san, King-sama."

Mikoto raised his aggravated tone to detour her formalities for the umpteenth time. "I told you not to call me-"

"I said goodnight!"

Izumo winced as Neirah slammed the door shut behind her, nearly rattling it off its hinges in a spray of broken glass. If his bar hadn't sustained so much damage from the misdirected fireworks display, he might have leapt over the counter to reprimand her. "So that's how it is, huh?"

Misaki peeked from around Saruhiko's lap, his eyes wide as he watched the woman drag the kind Tatara down the street. He couldn't help but feel some form of pity. "I-is he going to be alright...?"

Izumo groaned his fatigue and gave his temples an anxious rub. "What kind of girls do you kids have in your schools nowadays?" He could admit that of all the women they could be cautious around, Neirah was likely one of them, but it entertained him to consider that the boy carried scars from others just like her. "Don't worry about him. This is normal," he assured them lightly. "Let's just worry about getting you two home."

* * *

"Ouch, Nei-chan, why are you-?" Tatara genuinely winced the moment he stumbled to the ground on their apartment floor, his side aching where she had cut him the night before. He could feel the tissue reopening, and it made his narrow eyes water. It wasn't the first time Neirah had come off as jealous when he welcomed other people into their lives. She wasn't nearly as charismatic as he was, and it seemed that it wounded her when she wasn't the centre of his attention. He sighed nervously at the thought. "It could be worse, I guess."

He shuddered, surprised when Neirah hit her knees in the middle of the floor next to him, her hands folded in her lap and her heavy heart noticeable in the weight of her expression. "H-hey... are you going to tell me what all this is about?" He adjusted so he could face her more comfortably. "You seem kind of distant recently."

"You told me that... you can't help me if I don't tell you what's wrong, right?"

His expression softened, and he slowly propped himself up so that he could level their gazes. His tone was soft and concerned as he watched Neirah's emotions challenge her ability to maintain a confident façade. "That's right." Another long moment passed as he watched her trembling gaze teem with passion. "Is something the matter...?"

Her fingers clenched in her lap, and as her wide eyes watched the veins rise in the tops of her hands, she noticed that a teardrop had turned the tense valleys into small streams. "I need your help..."

Approaching her seemed unwise for the moment, but he still raised his fingers like he might try to touch her. Her response was to quickly tear her face to one side with a choked bark of defiance. "Don't!" she commanded passionately. Appreciating how brash she came off, she adjusted her tone and continued. "Please let me say this the way I need to... for myself."

When Tatara settled on his knees across from her, she returned her tender expression to where she could face him bravely. "I can't rely on you anymore," she admitted briskly. "O-other people need you too. You can't always be worrying about me, and I... need to accept that." Noticing that he parted his lips to speak, she immediately rushed out a continuation.

"Tat-chan, I want to be... the type of person that other people can look up to. Like how they look up to you. That's why... when I saw Anna today, I realized that I'm the exact opposite of what I want to be. It's because... I'm spending too much time trying to be what I think I'm supposed to be." She clenched her teeth with a gentle hiss. "I know, it probably doesn't make much sense, but Kamamoto-kun helped me understand. That's why... I need your help..." She raised her determined gaze to face him squarely, an air of certainty in her proclamation. "I need your help to convince Kusanagi-san to lend me his information."

Tatara shivered apprehensively, shifting uneasily in his seat as he focused intently on what she was saying. He was beginning to understand that the wool they thought they'd dampened her sights with was thin. "When you say _information_, you mean-?"

The severity of her gaze pierced him for her interrogation. "On the man that escaped the night I joined HOMRA."

Tatara diverted his sheepish smile to one side. "I see... So, it's time, is it?"

"I know Kusanagi-san kept tabs on him _and_ the human trafficking ring that the Yakuza continues to operate. I'm sure they haven't come back for me as a loose end because they know what I've become, and they're probably hoping that we'll just let them quietly go about their business after all that happened." She lowered her tone and her gaze alike. "But... I can't do this anymore," she nearly whispered. The silence was staggering as her emotions tightened her chest, but finally, she admitted her wrongdoings. "I'm sorry about last night..."

"I already told you it's-"

"In my dream... I'm in chains," she whispered delicately. "I can hear them calling to me for help, but I can't reach them no matter how hot I burn. The chains won't break. Since King-sama gifted me these abilities, I haven't used them for anything noteworthy." Her face welled with disappointed sorrow when she considered the two boys her king rescued that evening. He was brave and strong, using his powers to protect while others silently suffered. "Back when I worked for the Yakuza, if I'd figured out that they were doing these terrible things, I would have tried to destroy it from the inside out even if it cost me my life. Now I have the power I need to stand a fighting chance, and I've done nothing because I didn't want my battle to become my king's."

Her balled fists tightened in her lap, and the tautness of her body spread to her face, where she flashed teeth. "It caused me to begin a battle, between this idealistic version of myself and the one that lives to serve. And if one of them doesn't win soon, they're going to destroy each other."

She straightened with steady breaths and looked back at him with as much certainty as possible. "This is why I'm begging your aid in convincing Kusanagi-san to tell me everything he knows, so I can finish what I started and free myself from this guilt of being unworthy to serve a king."

Neirah flinched to the sight of Tatara laughing softly and slowly climbing to his feet like she hadn't just spilt her heart out onto the floor in front of him. "And the reason why you're upset that our clan is growing, it's not just because you're jealous that I'm spending time with other members, is it?"

Her expression dimmed with humiliation. "I may be young, but I've been with HOMRA for almost a year. To those who joined recently, I'm a senior member. As I am, I'm not ready to inspire them to be the best they can be."

"You know, you say the most ridiculous things sometimes," he mocked frivolously. "But, somehow, you always manage to make me smile."

Neirah's floating gaze followed him as he clutched his side and shuffled across the floor. "You won't... help me...?"

Caring brown eyes lingered on her fondly as he lifted his shirt and dabbed at the reopened wound he intended to redress. "I'm going to help you help yourself," he assured her softly. His expression suddenly brightened with a gentle laugh as he held a dry cloth to his side. "But first, could you help me wrap this up again? It kinda reopened when you dragged me up all those stairs."

Struck by the sudden realization, she climbed to her feet and urgently rushed to his side. "I'm sorry, that was pretty rash of me."

"Yeah, that's okay, though," he taunted. "I just wish you had of told me all of this back at HOMRA because that's where we're going next."

Neirah stilled with her hand pressed against his side as he dug through the first aid kit they'd conveniently left out that morning. "We're going back? Tonight? But it's so late..."

"Yep," he sang spiritedly. "I'm going to send Kusanagi-san a message and let him know that we want to see him after everyone else leaves for the night."

"W-we do?" she clamoured fretfully. "But Tat-chan-"

"I'm sorry, but this one's a little bit bigger than me, that's all." He diverted his sheepish gaze and tried to avoid her analytical leer. He didn't want to say anything too incriminating when she focussed so intently on his involvement. She would already sense that he knew something she didn't, and that would annoy her. "You see, none of this is surprising. And I think it's important that you discuss this between yourselves."

A sudden chill crawled up her spine suspiciously, making her nape tingle beneath her dark roots. "W-when you say yourselves... you mean Kusanagi-san and me, right?" Her throat worked nervously as his relaxed smile avoided her to fuss over his injuries. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything reassuring to say. "T-Tat-chan...?"

Finally, he tipped his caring eyes towards her. "I think you know who I mean."

The pressure increased on his side as her brow knotted skeptically. "Tatara, what do you know that I don't?"

_'Here it comes,'_ he mused doubtfully. He whined as Neirah's pressure increased, and he began to understand how she extracted critical information from targets when Izumo set her loose on their enemies. "Ah- owe, that's a little... eh... rough."

"Tatara."

"Okay, okay, just give me a second to stop bleeding all over the kitchen, and I'll talk."

* * *

Neirah must have looked funny to her friend as she stopped in front of the bar in the cold street. The lights were off, and that was something she'd never seen from the outside. Something about standing there about to enter felt sinister and chilled her to the bone. She felt like when they approached, the door that had always been opened to her would be locked. It frightened her.

"Nei-chan?"

There was play in her throat as she swallowed her fears and took another step forward in an attempt to catch up with Tatara. "I'm coming."

Tatara held the door open, letting her pass into the bar beneath the encouraging pressure of his hand on her tailbone. His tone was gentle as it casually warned her to watch her step while the street lights on the outside of the building lit the way through the large window panes recovering from the night's damage. Once the door shut behind them, Tatara turned and raised his voice over the silence. "Kusanagi-san, we're here."

In her mind, Tatara's voice seemed to echo, and the emptiness she felt made her heart race. Dark memories came flooding back and caused a hesitancy to slow her step as she followed Tatara like he was her guiding light. Her fingers clutched the corner of his jacket like the moment she released him, she would fade into the blackness. To the sound of gently ringing steel, she shot her gaze to where the crimson glow of a deep inhale lit a beacon at the end of the bar where a faint glow had come from the doorway leading upstairs.

"It took you long enough." Izumo's casual drawl would usually comfort her, but something about the way it uttered that night as he slapped his lighter shut made her tremble beneath his sharp gaze like he was a criminal. The truth was that neither of them was even slightly out of character, but the phantoms of their interactions in her mind began to contort until she found herself taking a step backwards in retreat.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Tatara murmured playfully. "We had to put me back together again before we left."

Neirah startled to realize that Tatara spoke openly about the wound that she thought they'd been the only ones to know about that day. When she shot her nervous gaze to Izumo's, her heart sank to the understanding that he didn't seem surprised. Suddenly, her wide-open world seemed to shrink, her vision narrowing and her lungs collapsing underneath the familiar weight. She reached to her throat, feeling the claws sink into her racing pulse as the veil lifted. At that moment, she questioned everything, and the answers rejected her.

Noticing the way Neirah was grasping at her leather choker for support, Tatara's kind concern reached out to her and slipped her hand into his. She seemed startled by the contact, but it was just enough to settle her anxiety before she was defeated by it. He'd been no stranger to keeping her grounded, and he didn't shy away from the pressure of her clammy grip crushing his fingers. "Don't worry. It'll all work out."

Neirah's vacant and fleeting gaze was bouncing between the pair nervously, and she hadn't even noticed that her breathing hastened. She parted her lips to speak, but her words wouldn't come. Instead, she looked back at Tatara with sad eyes and begged his aid as tears began to pool. His quiet response was to take her up in his arms and pull her tight to his body.

His once-bright expression faded as he held her shuddering figure and soon, his guilt was making his throat feel itchy. "I'm sorry," he whispered gently against her head. "I told them everything." He was relieved when she began to clutch him tightly, but he knew that they couldn't do this on their own. "Go with Kusanagi-san now. I'll wait right here, okay?"

Slipping away from her, he reached down and took her chin in his hand, tipping her petrified gaze towards his support as she tried to shake her head in denial. "Be brave now, Lion-chan. It's time for the Red Lioness to begin her hunt."

"Tatara." Her gaze widened impossibly further, but she stopped trembling against him. Shortly after, she turned swiftly to face Izumo's casual smile.

"You thought I didn't notice, huh?"

"Onii-san?" Shallow breaths began to stabilize again when Izumo pinched his light between his teeth to free up his hand and lay it out for her to take.

"I already told you we do things differently here, didn't I? Come on. He's not a real patient guy."

Her breathing faltered. "King-sama..."

_Please help me._

When she laid her fingers in Izumo's hand, she felt her blood ignite, and she could feel her fears shedding like icicles as her heart began to defrost. She found so much comfort in what was happening that she didn't tip her gaze back over her shoulder to catch one last sight of Tatara before Izumo guided her up the stairs towards the apartment above.

"Relax," Izumo drawled. "This isn't like you at all." He closed his eyes, and both hands thrust into his pockets as he slowly climbed. "It's kinda pitiful."

"I'm sorry," she whispered nervously. "Everything is upside down right now, and I don't understand why." Nothing had changed but her.

A knowing smile warmed his expression as he stopped her at the top of the stairs and put his arm around her for the first time since she'd joined their clan. He rested his palm against the back of her head and drew it to his chest with a deep sigh. "I was hoping you'd be able to move on without it coming to this, but I guess that plan backfired." When he felt her tense, her wild gaze piercing the centre of his chest for being held, he steadied his grip to reassure her. "Sorry I kept you so busy all this time for nothing."

A faint smile curled his lips around his cigarette as she lingered, obviously in shock for the way the night was unfolding. "I think you probably already know this, but I was against it from the start." He felt her jolt, and the feeling made him step away from her to connect their gazes. "But if this is where you want to be, well, I can't say as I mind havin' you around."

Something about hearing Izumo speak kindly to her had filled her heart with an overwhelming sense of belonging. Ever since she had first joined the Red Clan, she looked up to Izumo like a brother. When she thought about their pointless quips and his strict lecturing, she realized in that tender moment that maybe he also looked at her like the little sister she always hoped to be.

"I'm real proud of ya. You know that?"

The pressure of her shrinking world began to subside, leaving a rush of life to wash over her in comforting waves. Slowly, she could feel the phantoms of her past vanishing with the bright warmth of the companionship she felt. She raised her calming gaze, locking it with his for security. "You're not going to come with me, are you?"

Her meek whisper barely made it into his ears as he slowly shook his head. "Not this time," he assured her supportively. "I think it would be better if you asked him yourself, don't you?"

"I don't want to burden King-sama with my petty-"

"Just remember, we had our eyes on your clan for a while before we ever met you. Why do you think that is?" The comprehension in her gaze was visible in the way her expression morphed with understanding. "He's been waiting to hear it from you."

"From me?"

"You're one of us now, so this is your battle, too, Neirah. Your fate."

"My fate..."

He smiled and ruffled up the roots of her hair fondly. "And one word of advice, kid. Try addressing him properly when you go in there. Just this once."

"You mean King-sama?"

He shook his head. "No, you know that's not it. Show some respect, 'kay?"

Her brow creased with hesitancy as she tried to comprehend what he was trying to tell her. "But I do respect him, that's why-"

"If you respect him so much, then call him by the name he wants to hear."

Neirah's heart began to race when she felt Izumo's hand against the base of her spine, gently ushering her forward. As he rapped on the doorframe nearby with his index finger knuckle, she heard him whisper 'good luck' against her ear and then he was gone. Her throat nervously worked as she stared into a room she'd never been in before. It was big and bright, and standing right in the middle of it was her king. "King-sama-" She caught her words behind the teeth she snapped shut and recoiled into her posture. "I- Kusanagi-san..."

Upon her entry, he adjusted his gaze over his shoulder to meet the apprehension in her expression, but he hadn't put forth the least bit of effort to make himself more approachable. "You're acting pretty skittish all of a sudden," he stated evenly. "That's not very lion-like, is it?"

She diverted her eyes, rubbing her shoulders awkwardly as she lingered in the doorway. "N-no, sir..." she whispered. To the sound of his gentle grunt of indication, she observed him once more and watched him toss his head to the side as he turned away. It looked to be an invitation for her to join him and shortly after, he'd taken a seat on the edge of a large bed draped with crimson sheets.

Her steps were hesitant, but they came. Nothing about the room felt sinister anymore, not like the bar below. The only thing left to stagger her was the intensity of the man before her. She felt somewhat invited as he patted the bed beside his seat before resting his forearms on his spread knees in wait. For someone who wasn't overly patient, she felt like he was giving her the chance to take her time.

"Totsuka said you wanted to talk to me about something." Neirah had taken a seat next to him, but it was on the other side of the bed entirely, causing him to stare vacantly back at her. "How're we supposed to do that when you're all the way over there?"

"I'm sorry," she nearly whispered from the other side of the bed.

"What?" Groaning dimly, he lazily rose to his feet again and repositioned himself just next to the nervous woman who was too tense to flee. "There, now that I can hear you. You had somethin' to say, right?"

"I... I came here tonight to ask for help," she murmured cautiously. "From my king, my clan..." Neirah's thoughts wandered for a moment to all the support she received that day, and she concluded her sentiment with a bashful smile. "My friends."

"S' that so?" he instigated curtly. "Got anything in mind?"

She nodded softly, growing a little more confident as she spoke. "The night you took me in, I let one of the members escape. It's been a mark on my conscience because I know now that those men were responsible for trafficking women my age from the country. I've been watching their activity in secret against Kusanagi-san's wishes, but… It looks like he might have known that all along." Her expression faltered as she opened her heart to the man responsible for saving it almost a year prior. "I want to stop them," she whispered breathlessly. "But I couldn't even think of attempting something like that on my own. Even with this power you gave me, I'm just- I'm just one person. Just a girl..."

"That doesn't sound right." Mikoto waited for her to tip her inquisitive gaze towards him before casually locking their gazes and flopping his cigarette around between his lips in thought. "I guess Totsuka didn't do a great job catching you up to speed, did he? Just one person? I thought we were a lot bigger than that." His expression softened with fond affection as her eyes lit up like stars, and she could have sworn she caught a smile on his lips. "And I don't see any _girl_ here."

Neirah's lips began to tremble as she tried to keep from bursting into tears with a bright smile. That would be an incredibly girly thing for a woman to do while her king was empowering her.

"Do you know why I gave you my hand that night?" He diverted his attention to the doorway with a gentle hum of curiosity when she shook her head in his peripherals. "There was a fire in your eyes before the slate ever put it there, and it made me feel something."

Izumo leaned against the wall outside the room, his hands folded against his chest, and one heel braced against the drywall as a knowing smile curved his lips. _'So much for it had nothing to do with what he saw.'_

"It did...?"

Mikoto nodded and focussed his burning amber eyes on hers. "Yeah. It was somethin' kinda like hope."

Neirah's astonished gaze started to tremble as she watched the certainty in his expression. "H-hope...?"

_Hope that one day, I'll break free of fate and live the life I choose._

"Hope that one day, the power to do what you think is right won't come with chains." His expression softened again as the quiet tears began to fall from her eyes and into her lap. "Congrats, kid," he muttered warmly. "You made it what you wanted it to be."

The desperate choke of welling emotion released and caused her to cough, allowing the resulting tears to scatter around her hands clenched furiously tight in her lap. She gritted her teeth with a weak whimper and tried to hold them back with everything she had, but they wouldn't stop. The force caused her entire body to tremor, and she dropped her head, thick bangs concealing the weakness that she was helpless to hide. "Thank you," she barely articulated. "Ki-" She sealed her eyes tight, and finally, her lips twisted into a devastating smile filled with belonging. Her whisper was soft and tender as his name met her lips. "No... Mikoto."

Izumo returned in the doorway to the sound of Neirah's hysterics beginning to take control of the conversation. A part of him ached to see Neirah so broken in their presence, but the girl needed to fall to pieces before their hunter could build the future she'd always wanted to see now that she knew where she belonged. "So, I guess that's it," he announced casually. "It's war then."

Neirah was rubbing tears away from her face as Mikoto stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly climbed to his feet. "Yeah. I guess it is," he rumbled certainly.

"I'll get the boys ready then." When Mikoto joined his side, the pair calmly observed where Neirah was beginning to regain her composure. Izumo couldn't help but proudly smile as she straightened. "This's been a long time comin', hasn't it?"

Finally, ready to accept that she'd sparked a mighty blaze, Neirah stood willing to take responsibility for the outcome. "Kusanagi-san, as you might already be aware... I've been doing my own investigation on the situation."

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't forgotten," Izumo cautioned her friskily. "And this wasn't even your punishment."

Part of her wanted to giggle, but another part stiffened to recall the permanent scars Yō suffered for crossing their superior. "I'm sorry about that," she admitted with a shallow bow of her head. She remained tilted for a moment, her void gaze fixed on the floor beneath her feet. "I don't know what you've planned outside of my knowledge, but I do know that there won't be any room for restraint." She deepened her bow with her arms pressed tight to her sides. "And I humbly beg your permission to dismiss all traces of mercy during this fight."

This was her fight, and she knew that. She needed to burn, to release her fury upon the people responsible for stealing the futures of innocent hearts with dreams just as big as hers. The more she dwelled on her regret, the sharper the pain and the less oxygen made it into her lungs as the brutality of despair suffocated her.

"Ah, there's our hunter," he purred fondly. "I'm sorry, Neirah, but that's not my call to make." He shrugged indifferently and diverted his attention as Mikoto caught hers. "Your king will decide whether or not we show them any leniency."

It was there before, but since she'd taken his hand, it flourished, and he watched the battle between the doe and the lion end with the fawn's bloody carcass pinched between the mighty jaws of HOMRA's lioness. If he was to admit anything at that moment, it was that the pressure tightening his chest was quite possibly pride.

"Mikoto-san?"

He tipped his entertained smirk over his shoulder, his expression brightening eagerly to her determination. "No blood... No bone... No ash," he murmured resolutely.

Neirah's ears resonated with the command, and she felt the shackles binding her spirit unhinge. "No blood," she repeated. "No bone. No ash."

"And there's your answer," Izumo sang softly in conclusion.

_We burn them all._


	9. Kakuro

**Kakuro**

* * *

_**Earlier That Afternoon**_

Thanking a regular patron for his business, Izumo waved after his departure with a bright smile. However, as soon as the front door slid shut to leave him in a quiet bar with nothing but fellow HOMRA members, his friendly smile quickly faded. The sound of the clock ticking was daunting as he put forth an effort to avoid settling into conversation with the lingering Tatara and Mikoto. Seeing as they were the only ones remaining, he knew what kind of discussion awaited their company. It was at the forefront of their minds of late, and he was sure that was the reason none of them made an effort to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tatara shift uncomfortably, obviously trying his hardest not to aggravate his wounds as he sat at the end of the bar. Sure enough, that was a sign that the topic had become unavoidable because, in the next moment, Tatara broke the awkward silence.

"King? Do you have a minute?"

"When_ doesn't _he have a minute?" Izumo's mockery in an attempt to lighten the mood failed, and he knew their fate sealed when he saw the look of quiet contentment linger mildly on Tatara's face. The man's smile rarely faded, but Izumo could read the lines on his face that cautioned more profound concern. The consideration encouraged him to drop his head discouragingly. "So, it's time, is it? Let's get it over with then."

Mikoto obediently climbed out of his seat by the window, shuffling lazily through the bar towards his comrades with a blank expression struggling to remain void of annoyance.

His irritability made Tatara chuckle. "Oh, come on, King. You could at least _act_ interested."

Mikoto dropped down into the seat next to him with his hands still in his pockets, lingering a moment before swivelling to face the bar. "Yeah? And what's so interesting about it?"

The crease deepened in his brow as Tatara diverted his humble smile in thought. "Lots of things, I think," he admitted quietly. "No matter how you look at it."

"She stabbed him in her sleep," Izumo murmured bleakly. "If that's not interesting, I don't know what is."

"It wasn't a stab as much as it was a slip."

"Stop making light of the situation," Izumo scolded.

"Eh, it's not light so much as it's-"

"Totsuka," Mikoto rumbled intolerantly. The dark grumble of caution to emit from within their king held the same effect as a dog's growl. It warned them that if they continued to waste his time with banter, there would be hell to pay. "Tell us why."

Tatara looked towards Izumo's equally as demanding presence before surrendering that there wouldn't be any defending the situation. A part of him felt guilty for exposing the woman's secrets when he knew that he was the only one that she confided in, and he hoped that she would eventually find it in her heart to forgive him. "Her nightmares are getting worse." It was strange to hear the optimism drain from his voice as he spoke the admittance despondently. It was evident from his dull tone that he felt helpless to ease her pain, and that bothered him. "She's starting to say more while she's still asleep, like _just hold on_ or, _I'm coming to help you_. It's pretty obvious now that she feels bad about not acting when she learned what her old clan was really up to."

"She's sixteen, Totsuka," Izumo reasoned soundly. "What did she think she'd be able to do all on her own? We're clansmen, not heroes. And technically, this isn't even something for us to be meddling in, in the first place. If the Gold King caught wind of us sneaking around, there'd be hell to pay."

Nervous fidgeting caused their friend to stir when Tatara considered the sneaking around part of Izumo's statement. "She's been out a lot lately, and from what I can tell, it's not because of us." Tatara turned his fretful gaze towards where her manager would have the answers. If Neirah moved on Izumo's command, maybe it wouldn't be as nerve-wracking to consider. But the look on Izumo's face told him everything that he didn't want to know. "It isn't, is it?"

Izumo groaned lightly and lit himself a fresh cigarette, careful to take a moment to enjoy his first puff before speaking again. He knew that was coming. The three of them discussed pretty near everything revolving around their clan, and after Tatara realized his roommate was out on the prowl when she wasn't assigned to be, of course, he would grow suspicious. Neirah had made her life HOMRA, and if she wasn't with one of their members or under Izumo's direct orders, she was AWOL.

"That kid," Izumo started vacantly under his breath. "Her gift is her curse too. She sniffed 'em out before I ever had the chance to look into it with all this «JUNGLE» bullshit goin' down." He closed his eyes, touching his brow to his palm, but careful not to clumsily dust his smouldering poison against his forehead in the process. "The little brat's been sneaking around their operation without permission. We were wonderin' how she managed to track down that Strain so easily? Turns out that it was sheer coincidence. Goya's hauled up just on the other side of their hideout."

"Wait, Goya's down there?" Tatara reasoned. "Then maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we-"

"Don't get cocky," Izumo commanded. Although, he directed the order more towards Mikoto than Tatara. "Even if Goya was somehow involved, that's SCEPTRE4's problem, not ours. King or not, they're still operational, from what I gather. No matter how you slice it, we're breakin' the rules." After peeking the despairing look on Tatara's face, Izumo softened his tone and returned to sucking on the filter of his light. "That said, we can't just sit around and wait on them to do somethin' about it. Every day they waste ruins another life. That pisses me off as much as it does the rest of you."

Izumo turned away from the storefront, leaning against the bar as his thoughts meandered to what they knew. "They've got half of the harbour tied up in this. The roots run deep." He withdrew the cigarette from behind his lips with a hearty exhale. "Kid's smart, there's no denyin' that. She knows this one's bigger than she is, but she's gettin' restless. I don't know how long I'm gonna be able to keep her from doin' somethin' stupid."

He turned to face Mikoto's casual indifference as he divulged. "We've never attempted an upset on this kind of scale, but for Neirah, it's personal. She's too close to this one. It sure sounds nice to think that we can save those kids, but we gotta think about our guys too. At this point, it's a game of numbers, and not all of us are bulletproof." He found himself becoming irritable when Mikoto snorted his amusement. "Something funny, Mikoto?"

Mikoto scoffed under his breath, half entertained and half impatient with the whole ordeal. "You're afraid the kid's gonna kick the nest without us." No matter what his second's answer was, it didn't make a difference to the Red King, so he posed his question rhetorically. "S' that it?"

"That about sums it up, yeah." Izumo joined Tatara in watching their king climb to his feet like he hadn't felt concerned in the slightest that their young hunter was about to find herself in danger. "Where are you going?" There was a harsh demand in Izumo's voice as he beckoned Mikoto's return. "She's here because of you. You can't just-"

"It seems to me like the answer's pretty simple, so this meeting's pointless."

Izumo almost looked insulted by the man's curt response. "If it's so simple, then why don't you tell us _idiots_ what we should be doing about it?"

Mikoto turned over his shoulder, craning his malicious smirk to one side with an impatient huff. "We burn them all."

Tatara watched miserably as their leader made his exit. "Simple, huh?" he mused brightly contrary to the doubt marring his expression. "Well, that's King for you."

"That idiot," Izumo hissed. His conclusion was saturated in sarcasm as he wrung his fists until his knuckles ground against the polished surface of the bar. "Glad to see he's taking this seriously. He should know that even he isn't invincible."

"You're worried about Nei-chan, right?" Tatara wasn't as surprised as Izumo was by the bartender's sudden shift in defensive demeanour. No matter how passionately Izumo refuted Neirah's presence, she was family now. "I am too," he admitted softly. "She's had a lot of attacks lately, and I don't think she even realizes that she's shutting us out. I left her alone the other day to pick up some snacks, and when I came back, she was white as a ghost."

Izumo diverted his gaze miserably, his cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke. "And that's saying something, for her. That kid's always flirtin' with the sun."

"She's scared, but she won't let that stop her. Not this time," Tatara whispered tenderly. "Nei-chan is a hunter, and King knows that."

Izumo scoffed and whirled his attention from Tatara to where their king had just vanished. "I don't know what he knows or doesn't know anymore," he growled intolerantly. "He doesn't let anyone in that overinflated head of his. I can't tell if it's arrogance or stupidity, at this point." There was a bitterness in Izumo's tone that he couldn't conceal, but regret immediately followed his irritable venting. He knew that Mikoto was doing his best, no matter how difficult that was to see from where they stood. "I just wish I knew what he was thinkin'… What he sees that makes it worth puttin' his people at risk."

"Maybe it's hope."

From where he relaxed his palms on his rosewood countertop, Izumo's breathing hitched when he turned to face Tatara's modest sentiment.

"And maybe, for both of them, it's the same kind of hope." With a bashful smile, Tatara turned worried eyes on his host. "A hope that, somehow, they can make a difference. I don't think it matters to them whether it's a good or bad one, it's just an inescapable need to keep moving forward. That's what makes them hunters."

To the pressure of Izumo's concern, Tatara meekly bowed his head with a sheepish giggle. "Well, for King, maybe he is too confident to realize how dangerous it is, but for Nei-chan, maybe she doesn't care. She just wants to be free of that guilt, free to live the life she wants to without being chained by her past." His clenching fists wrung in his lap as his jaw tightened with worry. "And I feel like she's prepared to do whatever it takes…" Tatara tipped his eager gaze towards his friend with a pleading look. "Will you talk to her?"

Izumo shifted to face the boy like he'd spoken his plea in another language, and one Izumo couldn't comprehend. "Me? She's closest to you."

"But she respects you," Tatara reasoned unexpectedly soundly. "Maybe if you told her that we already plan on getting involved-"

"We're not moving until she says so."

Tatara seemed bewildered by his even announcement, wondering if they were talking about the same situation anymore. "You mean Nei-chan?"

Izumo quietly turned his calm smile to face Tatara's confusion. "This is her fight, Totsuka. Call it arrogance or stupidity, Mikoto's got it in his head that this is just how it's gonna be. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's chompin' at the bit here waiting for her to come to him."

"He is...?"

Izumo closed his eyes and shrugged. "You sound surprised. You know, he's not always as dumb as he pretends to be. That's the annoying part." His expression grew considerate once more as he turned away from the storefront with a soft, exasperated sigh. "I don't like the way that things are playin' out either, but it's just something that she's gonna have to do in order to let go of her past. As much as I hate to admit it, Mikoto's right. It'll do her no good just to follow us into this mess. She won't learn a damn thing."

Izumo surrendered the tension in his body and calmly bowed his head. It looked like strategies capable of keeping his king's subjects alive were going to fall on him again because Mikoto was quite clearly uninterested in anything outside of Neirah's confession. "We'll help her finish what she started, but she has to start it," he whispered. "We have no right to decide her fate for her." Not even a king had that right. Her fate was her own since the day she took Mikoto's hand. Her king didn't hold it, and it was time for her to learn that for herself.

_Hope that one day, we could set this cold world on fire._

* * *

**_January 3rd, 2009 12:17 pm_**

The air was crisp as it rolled off the waterways of the Minato port, and the sky was a cloudless, crystal blue as it kissed the water in the harbour. Nearby, a crude oil freighter caught Mikoto's eye as he stood quietly on the pier to observe it, and a wilder part of him couldn't help but imagine what it might look like if it burst into flame. The frigid breeze was ruffling his wild crimson mane as he lingered deep in contemplation. The very thought of impending catastrophe caused a small grin to slide across his face around the cigarette flopped to one side of his mouth, and he let out a quiet chortle of amusement.

"Mikoto."

From where he stood with his hands in the pockets, Mikoto tipped his moderate gaze over his rustling collar to where his second-in-command had addressed him. After passing along that acknowledgement, his lethargic leer continued to wander until he took notice of his forces gathered in wait nearby. If he was a king and Neirah was a lioness, then what stood before him was his pride, and not a single one of them questioned his reign. It was as satisfying as it was comforting and caused his foul mood to brighten. He was glad to see they had more faith in him than he had in himself.

He leapt down from his perch on the pier and sauntered towards the gathering positioned far enough out of their enemy's range that they wouldn't be suspected too soon. The mid-day sun was high in the sky, making it the worst possible time for conducting shady business. The rotation would have the warehouses supervised, but they would run into less interference from approaching clientele if they attacked in broad daylight. As suspected, only fools would do something so rash.

Mikoto bowed his head with a gratified smirk. "Let's get this over with," he murmured eagerly. "I'm starving."

_"King, maybe we shouldn't have picked lunchtime to attack our enemies."_

He could hear Tatara's tittering words as clearly as the day on which they went to war, but they were entirely fabricated. The fact of the matter was that when he raised his lethargic gaze, Tatara was nowhere nearby, and something about that realization filled him with an unnerving void.

"It won't be long now," Izumo noted. "Totsuka and Neirah are already on the move. If we don't make ours soon, they'll leave us behind."

In response, Mikoto started to walk, his stride long and purposeful as he made his way through the maze of large steel structures. It reminded him of a cage, and he grew agitated. He felt his temperature rise and struggled to keep calm as he battled the need to incinerate all that stood before him. And as he walked, his clan followed every step of the way.

The king's low rumble was somewhat vacant but absolute. "I got somewhere I wanna go first."

Cocking a brow not far behind him in quiet observation, Izumo followed closely as their king diverted courses. He knew that it wouldn't be long before their targets were in an uproar, but forcing his hot-headed companion to do anything outside what he'd willed was an effort in futility.

"Kusanagi-san?"

Izumo hummed his interest and casually tipped his gaze over his shoulder towards the broad man behind him. "Eh? What is it, Kamamoto?"

What Izumo couldn't see behind Rikio's tinted shades was the way the man shifted his gaze from Izumo, towards their king, and back. "Was it really okay to send Nē-chan and Totsuka-san into enemy territory without us?"

Izumo didn't seem concerned as he casually returned his eyes to their course. "Are you saying that because you're worried about Neirah or Totsuka?"

Rikio recoiled nervously and stammered out his uneasy retort. "Uh... maybe both?"

"I've never actually seen Totsuka-san fight," Saburōta admitted from nearby.

Izumo let a relaxed smile twist his expression. "That's because he doesn't."

The pair stiffened apprehensively at his back to the sound of Izumo's casual remark, and Saburōta couldn't help but clamour. "W-wait... so then why-?"

Izumo stopped in his tracks, halting Saburōta's nervous prattling when he rotated to face him squarely. "Look, this plan hinges on two pretty important things," he started evenly. "First, that we stick to said plan and keep from blasting this entire place off the map." Izumo didn't bother to look over his shoulder towards their strutting king as he raised his voice to an accusing holler. "Mikoto."

_Ehn..._ Mikoto dismissed the accusation gruffly and continued on his merry way.

With a shake of his head, Izumo locked eyes with Saburōta once more. "Second, that these bastards get good and shaken up before we get there. Their numbers dwarf ours right now, and even if they're just a bunch'a average Joe's, they've got their own way of protectin' what's important to them."

"I still don't like this," Yō cut under his breath. Even if he attempted to conceal the announcement, Izumo was sharp in picking up on it through the crowd, and it resulted in him raising his voice to address their horde.

"If you don't like it, you can go home," Izumo shouted briskly. "Nobody's forcing you to be here."

"That's not what I meant!" Yō snapped anxiously over the hush. "What I don't like is that you just sent Nē-chan in there all on her own!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Masaomi scolded. "He just finished saying that Totsuka was with her."

"What a joke! She might as well be alone, then!"

"Totsuka went with her because none of you blockheads woulda been capable of keeping her alive," Izumo rumbled. "That particular part of the plan requires tact, and I think it's pretty safe to say that none of you even know the meaning of that word. Look, everyone's got someone that they work well with, in these types of situations. Those two are partners, whether you like it or not." An irritated scoff caught in his throat as he lowered his voice to speak less aggressively. "What is it that Totsuka's always saying? It'll all work out? So pipe down and do your part. Even if Totsuka's a little hopeless, Neirah's not. I don't have a doubt in my mind that they'll pull this off without a hitch."

Izumo slowly turned from their hushed forces to tail Mikoto, his exhausted sigh marked in the air by the humid cloud of smoke and breath in front of his face. _'Alright, you two. Don't make a liar outta me now.'_

* * *

Holding her flattened palm to her brow, Neirah tilted her head as she braced against the warehouse wall and stared up into the blazing sun. "From what Kusanagi-san could tell, this should be the time of day they're least active." She squinted and redirected her attention toward the building rooftops, careful to keep the chain at her hips from clamouring too loudly against the sheet metal. "I suppose that's fine, but it also makes it difficult to sneak around. I'm not used to the spotlight."

"They sure won't be expecting us to come calling in broad daylight."

Neirah couldn't help but feel like Tatara had far too much enthusiasm in his voice, given their circumstance, but something about that lifted her spirits. "We could try knocking and pretend we're preaching the words of our lord and saviour, but I somehow doubt we're going to be able to convert them to the 'Burn them All' ideology."

With an amused snort, Tatara turned his bright smile towards her in the narrowly shaded phantom of the industrial structure. "But I bet the look on their faces would be priceless."

She sighed, her upheaval pressing her fingers to her brow as her second hand shooed him toward the task at hand. "Just get me into the building, Tat-chan." Despite her exhaustion, she kept a sharp eye on the perimeter, her expression hard and focused as he worked diligently to cut the lock for her. "We don't have a lot of time for games. The harbour looks quiet, but there are guards stationed in all corners of this place. I didn't expect them to be this active during the day, and if we stay in any place for too long, there's a good chance we'll be spotted."

"Won't that have the same effect as stirring them up once we're inside?"

"Yes, well, I would prefer not to get shot today if that's alright by you," she quipped sardonically. "And there aren't many corners I can stuff you in to keep you safe out here while I make a ruckus."

It was hard for him to focus on her words when he was busy decommissioning the lock on the steel slab blocking their entry, but he still spared her cynicism a chuckle. After a moment of intense focus, he turned over his shoulder to observe where she stood by his crouched body. "You know, it's kind of funny." She didn't seem the least bit amused as she turned her antsy leer in his direction. "The woman is standing guard while the man cuts the lock on the door. Doesn't that seem kind of backwards?"

Neirah pressed her balled fists against her hips and stifled her fury with a seething hiss. "Tat-chan, this isn't the time. If you don't have me on the other side of that door in thirteen seconds, there'll be hell to pay."

"What happens in thirteen seconds?"

"I maim you."

Tatara sniggered uneasily and returned to his diligent work, successfully buying enough time to catch his breath during their banter. However fearful he was for his life, he couldn't erase the smile from his face. "Even though you're younger than most of us, you really are like HOMRA's big sister."

Disregarding his sentiment, she turned her intense stare toward the reflective infrastructure around them. She tried to banish the blinding sight of the sun shimmering off the mirrored steel while her comrade worked on breaking them into the facility. "King-sama is so impatient that he could be at the mark any minute. We have to draw their attention and make sure everyone's good and confused before that time."

"And the girls? Where are they keeping them?" Tatara interrupted in a laboured tone. "Kusanagi-san says he's not sure where they are so we have to be careful-"

"We'll find them," she whispered almost instinctively. The truth was that she wasn't entirely sure herself, but her feet seemed to pull her towards a strange path in eager stride. It might have been the reason she was so anxious to move, unable to keep herself from fidgeting as she waited. "Once we raise the alarm, I'm going after them. You rendezvous with King-sama and Kusanagi-san."

Tatara gasped like he had surfaced from underwater, cringing the moment he heard the dull rattle of the lock dropping out of the door in front of him between fortified slabs. Luckily, the cool breeze was rattling debris all around them, the fluctuation in temperature making metallic pipes pop. There was nothing suspicious about the occasional ringing of steel. "Nei-chan, you say the most ridiculous things sometimes."

There was a hint of disgust in her grimace as she turned to observe him sliding his forearm over his perspiring brow. "Excuse me?"

His gentle smile was far from comforting as he forced it to remain in light of their circumstance. "Even if I wanted to let you go off on your own, Kusanagi-san would probably kill me. He gave me pretty specific instructions."

"We can't just leave them there!"

"He's going to call in the local authorities to deal with the aftermath, so I'm sure they'll be okay," he reasoned. "Our objective is to make sure we scatter their forces-"

"I'm not going back until I make sure they're safe." There was a lethal look in her burning cobalt gaze as she stared at her friend and roommate with the utmost certainty. "If even one of them is hurt because of my indecision-"

"Whoa, whoa hold on, Lion-chan. What's with that intense expression all of a sudden?" he rushed out meekly through his sheepish grin. "You didn't let me finish."

"Tatara, you are about four and a half seconds from maiming."

"That's a pretty specific timeframe."

"Speak."

Tatara smiled knowingly and climbed to his feet in front of the cooling door slab. "It's true that our objective is to scatter their forces, but if King gets a little too intense, we could risk hurting innocent civilians if we don't know where they're located and fast." He reached out and grasped the pull handle on the steel security door to slide it open. "That's why I'm going with you. We'll catch up with King and the others as soon as we make sure everyone is safe." He gave a little bow and slipped his upturned palm across his front to invite her advance. "After you, m' lady."

Despite the glowing of her blushing cheeks, she wrinkled her nose and snorted curtly. "Keep practising." Upon passing, she grabbed hold of his collar and dragged him through the door after her just in time that the guard surveillance in the rooftops nearby had missed their entry. "If you're coming, make sure you stay close. I can't look after you if you run off on your own."

"Oh, how the tables have turned. Fair valkyrie, how could I ever repay such kindness?"

Her stony demeanour hadn't cracked that time to her friend's antics. "You can repay it by staying quiet," she whispered in a low growl. She crouched around a corner that branched off into a corridor leading into the wide-open factory below. From her experience, the buildings were all similar in construct, scarce office space, and a skeleton main-floor dropping into a deep basement level filled with heavy equipment and shipping crates. The abandoned assembly lines were a free-runners dream, so she had no reason to believe that she would have a hard time dodging pistol fire. The bridges hatching the facility looked like heavy-duty sections of chain-link fence suspended from the ceiling as observation platforms, a way for supervision to observe the operations below from a safe distance. Ironically, it would serve the same purpose for their intrusion.

What _had_ concerned her was the man at her back. He was great for helping her to remain calm by making light of their predicament, and she hadn't doubted Izumo when he announced that Tatara would be the one to sneak her into the facility, but she couldn't wholly banish her worry. If they sent Rikio or Masaomi with her, there may have been a chance that she could move without worrying about the fate of her partner. Unfortunately, the thought of Rikio's version of breaking-and-entering wasn't entirely favourable either. Sure, it was their duty to stir things up, but she would have preferred living to see the outcome of her ambitions. Her assigned partner knew how important it was to keep on his toes and, as it stood, pride wouldn't get in the way of their retreat if things got complicated for them. That was the reason it was him. She knew that was the reason.

Still, a part of her wanted to demand he leave and return to the protection of their king as soon as he could slip away, while another part of her understood him. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he still cared about his friends, and he wasn't without his uses. If she were in his position, she would have likely done the same. She _had_ done the same. With that in mind, she slowly peeked around the corner and prepared to advance.

"I need you to take things seriously now, Tat-chan," she whispered a little more tenderly. The enemy turnout was more than she and Izumo had anticipated in that particular building, and the consideration made her muscles contract with the need to release the kinetic energy building. "Things are about to get loud."

* * *

When Izumo finally released his mind from the distraction of their clan squabbling, it was already too late to prevent the altercation about to ensue. He rounded the corner, swearing that, moments before, he'd only been a couple of steps behind his king. Unfortunately, in that short amount of time that separated them, Mikoto had already drawn Eiko out of his lair. When Izumo met the sight, he came face-to-face with the burly, scarred-up Strain who had hospitalized one of his clanmates a few months prior. He almost lost the stick from between his grinding teeth as his heart rate quickened alertly. Confrontation with a Strain was the last thing they needed just then.

"Shit..." was all Izumo could bleakly mutter.

"Well, this is a surprise," Eiko rumbled deeply. "If it isn't Suoh Mikoto at my front door." His chuckle almost emitted as a snarl, and he turned his head to the sight of the Red Clan gathering to block his only practical means of escape. In his meandering gaze, he caught the sight of Yō baring his teeth like a dog ready to snap, and he couldn't help but delight in the youth's enthusiasm. That seemed to set Yō on edge until Masaomi reached out to brace his splayed fingers flat against the centre of Yō's chest, keeping him compliant with their orders. "Looks like your boy healed up nicely," Eiko harassed with intent. "Be an awful shame if he were to end up right back in emerge."

Mikoto quietly grunted as if the dig amused him, but he didn't crack a smile with the familiar Strain. Instead, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and pitched a mobile device towards the tensed blonde standing before him, watching the man's swift reflexes reach out and snag it before it could leave his range. "We've got business nearby," the king rumbled callously. "Just thought I'd warn you that real estate's about to drop."

Eiko looked at his returned mobile in his hand before raising his creased expression towards the youthful new Red King. "And here I thought you were here for revenge. I got all excited."

"Disappointed?" Mikoto droned monotonously. "I thought the kid worked you over pretty good the last time we met."

The Strain seemed entertained by the memories, recalling them fondly until he began to laugh. "She did, didn't she?" he brayed.

The sight made Saburōta recoil protectively, and when Eiko suddenly stopped laughing, his guard raised like hackles to the shift in his malicious tone. He had recognized it from when he witnessed Eiko's fight with Neirah during the summer past.

"But it was thanks to that mean hook of yours that I wound up payin' the blues a visit," Eiko cautioned. "I don't know if you know this, but they're a pretty stuffy bunch."

Mikoto didn't seem as threatened by the Strain's audacity as the others. "Yeah," he admitted flatly. "I wanna talk about that once I take care of business." With his parting comment, Mikoto turned and started away, leaving his dumbfounded faction to contemplate following.

Eiko watched Mikoto's stride, and vexation filled his expression when the king showed him his back. That was one thing Eiko refused to do, even during combat. "That's it? You brought your boys all the way out here to slap me on the wrist?" He seemed to grow impatient with the mockery. "S' this some kind of fucking joke?"

"Like he said, we've got business nearby," Izumo interrupted callously. "You just happened to be in the area, and we thought you might want your PDA back." His side gaze was sharp with warning as he passed the man by, cautioning hell if he moved on their king. "Hard to keep up with «JUNGLE» without it."

Eiko snorted briskly, his demeanour appearing to soften with something akin to regret. "So you put two-and-two together, huh? Not surprising outta you." His grip tensed around the phone as he stared into its screen, and it failed to split under his pressure. "If that's what you're worried about, don't bother. They dropped me flat when King Red introduced me to that boathouse."

"Yeah," Izumo muttered casually. "We'll talk about that too."

Eiko turned and watched the gathering of red clansmen pass him by, each eager for a piece of him after all the trouble he'd caused. But to his surprise, not a single one had made a move to press conflict. They trusted the will of their king, and it was iron, something Eiko hadn't expected to bear witness to in the least. The thought was beginning to make him bitter when he realized something that struck him as strange. "Little Red," he announced inquisitively under his breath. "She ain't here?"

Izumo stopped nearby and let his fellow members pass as he turned in the cool breeze to face Eiko once more. "That's where you're wrong," he cautioned him pleasantly. "She's been here long before us and believe me-" He grinned at the curious Strain impishly, removing one hand from his pocket to raise his thumb and outstretched forefinger like a gun before popping it back in his direction. "She's about to make one hell of a bang."

* * *

Confusion knotted his brow as Tatara slunk alongside the wall at Neirah's back, careful to keep his attention over her shoulder where their enemies gathered. "Something about this feels off," he cautioned her in a whisper. "Were there supposed to be this many of them here during the day?"

"Tat-chan, that is the last thing I want to hear coming from you," she snapped beneath her breath. It wasn't easy to stay positive when the notoriously-optimistic man by her side was doubtful. "You're supposed to say _oh wow, Nei-chan! Look how easy this is going to be_!"

"Do I actually sound like that?"

"You sound exactly like that."

Neirah held out her hand to signal that he should stop before tripping over her crouched figure, and that was when reality sank in. Catching the sound of deep voices echoing in the vast factory building, she honed her sights in on the source with a sickening feeling in her gut. At first, she was eager to move, realizing that her timing couldn't have been more perfect. But then, venom flashed in her impatient gaze to consider that if they'd come one day later, they may have been too late. Her impatient growl pressed past her teeth in a violent sneer. "Kusanagi-san, did you know about this all along?"

_Hm?_ In response to barely catching her quip, Tatara tilted his head in confusion like a dog being baby-talked. "Did you say something, Nei-chan?"

"Nothing," she dismissed harshly. "Get ready, Tatara. We have a change in plans." Her fingers twitched at her side, and they lingered a breath away from the chain wrapped around her shapely hips like she prepared for a quick-draw. "Do you see those two men at the end of the factory?"

"You mean the one with the brief-" He stalled, grasping what she was about to say before she had the chance to speak the words. "They're doing it as we speak."

A disgusted knot bound her face as her stomach churned. "That means every one of our victims should all be in one spot in preparation to export," she snarled. Her heartbeat was deafening her as her chest ached beneath its passion, her hot gaze narrowing on the sight of the man receiving what she could only imagine was compensation. She recognized him from when he'd been soaking wet and clamouring while she stared down the barrel of his trembling firearm. In an instant, she was back on that dark rooftop beneath the crimson glow of her king's Sword of Damocles and deafened by the sound of a gunshot.

Her tone was deep with sultry malice as she shifted, the crimson bead at her throat bouncing against her leather choker. "I'm going to clear the way, and while I'm distracting them, try to get your hands on the one with the briefcase. He should know where they're keeping the hostages. Once we know they're out of harm's way, we can move freely."

"This one might be too big for the two of us to take on ourselves, don't you think?" His attempt at reason had been justified but not entirely received. "Maybe we should get a hold of King and- Nei-chan!"

Luckily, even as he called out to her descending figure, he hadn't raised his voice, which meant his cover remained, for the time being. She could feel her heart in her throat as she moved towards the side of the grate-based bridge that boxed the perimeter of the building. As she wrapped her hand around the hand railing, she carried her momentum and courage with her over the edge. Something about her daring in that moment was uplifting as all tact vanished on impulse. She considered that maybe that was how freedom felt.

Panic seemed to cause an uneasy hush to interrupt the vacant shuffling in the factory below when they caught the sound of a weighty thump nearby, expecting that some of the weathered equipment might have broken free. But then they turned their inquisitive gazes to face the sight of a lean woman crouched just beneath the grate above to bear the recoil of her fall.

Her soft auburn waves whispered against her face to catch up with her swift decline, framing her cheeks and dusting the floor by her boots. The black leather of her cropped jacket groaned as her muscles tightened, making the golden flames on the arms swell. She heard the clamour begin to rise in accusation, her blood and body burning with anxious fever until she couldn't contain it. Soon, her curves ignited, her white-knuckle grip choking the chain between her hands as she slowly raised her sweltering violet gaze over the edge of her popped collar toward the sickening sight before her.

Tact had kept her safe her whole life, but it wouldn't save the futures of the women anticipating transport over the pacific. Before, she had spent every waking hour protecting her vague destiny, being proud of nothing she'd managed to accomplish. All tact managed to do for her was keep her sheltered and lonely in a cold, hard world. But that wasn't the fate she wanted. She was ready to live. She was ready to burn.

This was her fight, and thanks to her king, she had the power she needed to set things right. But power wasn't the only thing she received from him. Along with the hand that took hers that night months prior, she'd found a family and a place to call her own. She was indebted to him before, but she was beginning to worry that she would never be able to repay him for all he'd done, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. The next step she took was the first of many, leading her down a path by his side. Once she was free of the guilt that she carried over the scars of her past, she would be his.

As she lifted her toe from the floor to advance, her whisper was soft and conclusive as she uttered it to herself in the quieting room below. "Burn them all..."

* * *

Rikio whirled to face the sound of gunfire and raised voices interrupting the peaceful harbour, nervous about how distant they sounded. While they waited on the industrial outskirts, the uproar sang from the opposing end of the yard by the waterfront they'd left behind. "Wait, is that right, Kusanagi-san?" he rushed out fretfully. "Totsuka-san and Nē-chan are on the complete opposite side as us?!"

Izumo smiled with a soft hum of approval. "That's right," he admitted in a calm tone. "That was the whole point. They start at one end to wake 'em all up, and then we meet in the middle. They'll come crawlin' back to the front lines once they figure out Mikoto's here anyway. This just gives us the chance to thin the herd while they're still figurin' that part out." He tipped his pleasant beam to either side of him, nodding toward two separate groups he'd segregated to branch in from the left and right perimeter after the skirmish began. They obediently followed his unspoken command and stormed off to complete their vice.

Apprehension flashed in Saburōta's expression as he tentatively shied away from the commotion. "It's so loud... Are you sure they're going to be okay on their own?"

Izumo didn't seem concerned as he picked his cigarette from between his teeth and tapped the ashes onto the ground with a devious smirk. "Look on the bright side, so long as they're still shooting, it means there's something alive to be shooting at."

Saburōta shuddered at his grimly blunt remark. "You call that a bright side?!"

"Forget about the shooting," Mikoto ordered vacantly to draw Saburōta's attention. "If you want to make it over there to help them out, you'd better burn everything that gets in your way." After he thrust his hands into his pockets, his golden leer sharpened as he approached the barbed gate in front of him and moments before he walked into it nose-first, his body combusted. The chain links popped and sizzled to the sound of his dim growl, folding to either side under the release of pressure when they liquified. Mikoto stepped unhurriedly over the remains, his gaze locked on the enemies that were finally taking notice of their presence. Something about their worry amused him enough to smirk. "Knock, knock," he drawled.

From one of the nearby buildings, a pair of mobsters shot their attention into the sky to the sight of the sun reflecting off a rough surface high in the air generating an eerie crimson glow. One of them threw their trembling finger out towards it with a desperate stammer. "Y-yo, what the hell is that thing?!"

The materializing sword crackled, solidifying in the centre of the harbour majestically above the head of its corresponding king. "It's the Red Monster!" the second man shouted. "We gotta fall back! They're coming from all sides!"

Izumo chuckled brightly and drew his smoke to his lips with a satisfied smile. "That's our cue, boys," he hummed. "Remember now, until we figure out where they're keeping the hostages, try not to trash the place too much."

Mikoto's next step exaggerated as it smouldered against the pavement and his voice raised in a low, raspy drone. "No blood. No bone. No ash."

The satisfying sound of his clan repeating the action at his back shook the ground like thunder. "No blood. No bone. No ash." Again, it repeated louder, instilling fear in the hearts of the men opposing. "No blood! No bone! No ash!"

Again, and again, the thunder deepened, louder every time it roared. If he was the Red King, and Neirah was the Red Lioness, then the red at his back was his pride. Mikoto's smile broadened like his flames as he finally raised his hands in front of him and focused the manifestation of his power towards the confirmed administration building in front of them. If they wanted to protect the ones at their front, they had to burn everything in their wake. That was what he intended from the start. "Burn them all."

* * *

Tatara crept around the hallways on the upper level of the building, careful not to make too much noise despite the agonized wailing of Neirah's victims below. He had to remember that, even if she was a woman, she reared with a purpose, and it was like his own. Even if she felt closer to the situation, she was still under the same orders, and they'd come from his king, their king. Until she called for his aid, he had to do his part to stay out of her way and make sure they didn't fail.

With a startled gasp, he tipped his gaze out the window on the top of the stairwell to the sight of a bloodstained blade marking his leader's spot in the sky. It was distant but reassuring enough to fill him with focus. _'They're here,'_ he thought enthusiastically.

His fond smile faded the moment he turned to face the sight of his target blaring orders over his mobile device, and a cautious furrow darkened his expression. As the man hung up, he secured his grip on his treasure and ran. Taking his mark, Tatara leapt from the stair landing and slipped out the window leading to the roof of the buildings adjacent. "Oh no, you don't. Nei-chan wants you alive." And that was certainly not the direction the man wanted to be running if he was afraid for his life. _'We need you alive... so we can save them all.'_

* * *

From where he sat solitarily in the shipyard, Eiko raised his sharp grey leer towards the sky that ignited with power. The heavens shook, and the earth rumbled to the sound of the Red Clan's determination, and from where he lingered with a dying cigarette between his teeth, he could see it. He could feel it. A clear sign of war reflected the sun's pale rays, and he could sense the atmosphere shift in a familiar way that reminded him of a youth long past. Once again, the powerful sight made him feel small in the Red King's wake. He was too proud to admit it, but his skin started to crawl with the pressure, and a small smile curled his lips beneath a plethora of scar tissue.

It had taken him longer than it should have to figure out what he truly admired about the man, and he blamed his bitter resentment for causing him to act so immaturely. He looked past the remnants of his body and watched gnarly skin strain around the tightening of his muscles as he put out his cigarette on his forearm without batting an eye.

"Suoh Mikoto," he muttered thoughtfully. "So, this is the kind of king you are?" He bowed his head with a humbled scoff and slowly climbed to feet. "Are you seeing this...

Kagutsu?"


	10. Kerosene

**Kerosene**

* * *

Swiftly elegant, Neirah danced through the air around the assaults that were trying frantically to lock on to her acrobatic figure. She didn't run because she floated, and she didn't jump. She soared. She was a woman born of wind, and it was no secret that wind was fire's fuel. Her searing chain cut through their air, through flesh and steel just as quickly, as she propelled it with the momentum of her twisting body. Calmly, efficiently, she didn't stop moving until the orchestrated symphony of pain and suffering subsided, causing the factory to grow still around her save for her laboured breaths.

Dust polluted the smoky air when the blood spray diminished, leaving her heart rapidly knocking against her chest. Tatara was nowhere that she could see, and neither was her target. Her fist clenched when she thought about him; the man who slipped away from her eight months prior. Maybe it wasn't his fault that the shady dealings of her old employer continued, but the kerosene in her veins ignited to consider the possibility. Her red claws promised they'd be the hard hand of reality to choke the life from his body in retribution for all the time she spent freezing beneath theirs. She reached the collar on her throat, touching the reassuring presence of red, the warmth of supportive memories that reminded her that fate was hers for the taking.

Immediately locating her companion became her priority as she silently begged his forgiveness for becoming too engrossed in unsated revenge. Her gaze was full and focused as she scanned the area, careful not to leave any loose ends for a second time. To be sure, she tried to retrace her steps, identifying as many of her targets as she could before stepping away. The alarming realization was that, in her adrenaline-fueled frenzy, she couldn't.

Before she could dwell on her fragile state of mind, her thoughts were interrupted by a haggard cough. The sound caused her softening gaze to harden as she fortified her guard. When she turned and glanced through the distorted haze of searing hides and smouldering electrical components on factory equipment, her half-lidded gaze began to burn.

He coughed again, calling out familiar names in hopes that someone would respond. Even a rotten mortal felt fear, and he felt nothing fiercer the moment he heard the deep, rhythmic clatter of high-heeled boots resonating off of the concrete foundation he laid on. With a terrified whimper, he clutched the slice in his thigh from knee to haunch, trying urgently to ease the pain of it splitting open as he attempted to retreat on all fours. "No, no, please!"

Her strides were unhurried as she approached the sound of his alarm, chains gently singing as she worked them between careful fingers. As the smoke dispersed, she could see the trail of red he was leaving behind, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he was left delirious with blood loss. If red was the fuel to her fire, then his blood was a gasoline trail that her spark had found. It was only a matter of time before she caught up to him, and the blaze of her fury sent his life up in flames. It was moot for her to seek information from someone at death's door anyway. At least, that's what she told herself as her anger retook control.

"It's just a job!" His passive defence broke as he panicked, but his hopes rekindled when he came to rest his gaze on a discarded pistol near one of his lifeless comrades. Trying not to let on that he approached salvation as hurriedly as he could, he repeated his justification. "It's just a job, I swear!"

When he snatched the weapon, he quickly flopped onto his back and aimed his shuddering hands towards the haze, his heart palpitating as the clicking grew closer. As soon as the young brunette's hourglass shadow appeared behind the smoke with intense crimson eyes, he fired.

As her uncanny reflexes saw her enchanted chain swing, he nearly screamed to the sound of his light calibre bullet ricocheting off the tungsten. The kunai continued to slice through the air as swaying hips came into his blurring sight's focus, and with every fold of the links across her body, more of the smoke blew away.

When the smog had dispersed, he took hurried aim at her revealed torso and pulled the trigger a second time, his heart stalling in his chest as the hollow click of an empty clip sounded in the quiet factory. "No... No!" He threw his arms up in the air and tried to shuffle away with his one functioning leg. "P-please! I have a daughter to feed!"

Something about his desperation sickened her, and she silently begged that, given the circumstances, he was lying. If he was telling the truth, her heart hardened even further to her cause. Disgusting villains caught up in a human trafficking gig in any way didn't deserve to procreate. But she doubted what defended him was honesty. Trust was a broken and manipulative card to be played in the underground world, and with her experiences, she'd desensitized herself to it. "Committing a crime, even with good intentions, is still a crime." Her deep and sultry tone saturated with malice as she stopped and steadied her chain between her palms. "And someday, karma will catch up to you."

It would catch up to all of them, that was inevitable. But something about Neirah's deeds with HOMRA seemed different than with the Raikōjū Ka. Perhaps that was because not even fate had the power to stop her now. The air began to sizzle as her chain ignited between her palms until it reached a temperature capable of carving steel. Unfortunately for the man grovelling at her feet, he wasn't nearly as prevailing. "Are you strong enough to defy that fate?"

* * *

Despite being hesitant, at first, it was Saburōta who sprinted through the building with an uplifting smile creeping onto his face. To his left, Yō hadn't even taken his hands out of his pockets as he kicked up a wall of fire capable of boiling through the mechanical limbs of the factory equipment. Saburōta's admiration observed as it sliced through the ground floor, straight through enemy forces. To his right, he ducked to avoid being struck by the man Rikio beat over the side of an empty shipping container with his shin. In a brilliant burst of flame, the hearty man's victim alerted his company with devastated wailing. Saburōta's attention then drew to the sight of scattered fire darting between the structures like homing missiles before colliding with armed targets to keep their interference to a minimum. There was fascination shining in his eyes as Saburōta twisted, jogging backward so he could face their origin in Izumo's hand.

Izumo returned his lighter to his pocket, his hand rising to his face to steady the burning cigarette between his lips. As he casually strode into the desecrated building next to his king through the hole they'd blasted into the side of the building, he dropped one arm to stuff it into his pocket as he overlooked what had become a battlefield. "Anyone care to explain how the authorities didn't think to get involved out here sooner?" His tone was casual and filled with dull agitation. "Some suits with money come in, buy up a buncha profitable real estate, then shut it down for no good reason, and that isn't the least bit suspicious?" He clasped his smoke and withdrew it from his face with an impatient sigh, dropping it with his hand to his hip. "What kinda idiots do we have runnin' this damn city?"

In his peripherals, Izumo caught the sight of Saburōta's envy, and he swiftly raised his arm out, popping his cigarette between lean fingers. At his command, the fiery spectres that were once modest embers bolted to all sides, managing to cover for their new blood who'd almost had it spilt by a lead pipe. "Get your head in the game, rookie. I know this's your first big brawl with us, but it's rude to keep a lady waiting."

Saburōta swung around to face the sight of the man inches from striking him as he burst into flames with a cry of horror. It was hard for him to focus on any particular target because the seasoned fighters around him were picking them off while he marvelled at their abilities. "R-right," he hollered back. He yelped when a stray bullet ricocheted off of the sheet metal he'd been standing on, but relief overcame him soon after he turned his head to catch Masaomi's fiery palm jetting into the jaw of the offender. With his balance compromised, the thug unexpectedly plummeted into the steel framework below, his frantic holler silencing on impact.

"That was pretty dumb," Masaomi teased briskly. "If you want the guy to pay attention, you probably shouldn't get him thinking about girls."

Izumo hummed his indifference. "Chitose seems to work better when he's got girls on the brain."

Not long after his comment, Yō kicked down the door leading into the next part of the factory, sprinting as fast as he could toward his goal. "Don't worry, Nē-chan! I'll protect you!"

Masaomi drove the destructive butt of his palm into his brow, disturbing his glasses as he groaned his impatience. "That idiot's gonna get himself killed." Shortly after his dull murmur, Masaomi was dropping down a level with an agitated grunt, reliably chasing off after his eager companion.

"BasTARD! Get out of the way!"

"Do you want to die today!?"

"Son-of-a-bitch almost shot me!"

"Yeah, don't get shot, okay?" Izumo rumbled evenly after their fellow clansmen. But even with his worry, he couldn't help but smile. "You know, Mikoto? I think I owe you an apology."

_Hn?_

Izumo turned to face the man at his side with a sly grin. "Making Neirah your clansman might have been the best idea you've ever had."

Realizing he was close to getting left behind for his keen dawdling, Saburōta startled and jolted to life. "No good," he rushed out sharply. "They're totally showing me up right now."

"Bandō!" To Rikio's thundering command, Saburōta shot his attention to where the man leapt from the upper floor towards him after Masaomi. "If you're nervous, take the upper level." When he straightened, he threw his thumb over his shoulder invitingly. "Kusanagi-san's already taken out most of their firepower, so it's a breeze."

Saburōta shuddered to the sheer insult of his statement. "W-who said I was nervous?! What kind of man takes the easy way out when a pretty girl somewhere needs his help?!"

_Eh?_ From beneath his shades, Rikio cocked a brow, his elevated wrist falling limp with bemusement. "I hate to break it to you, but Neirah doesn't need anybody's help," he muttered grimly. "Besides, did nobody tell you about what happened to Chitose when-"

A blushing Saburōta threw up his guard to passionately deny the accusation. "I know what happened, and that's the last thing on my mind right now!"

"Says the guy she calls _baby_." Passing by, a frisky redhead put in his jabs. Saburōta recognized him from a few months ago, but when they first met him, his hair was blonde, not a fiery red like their kings. That wasn't uncommon, though. It seemed Tanaka Haru had a different hair colour every time they saw him. Still, he recognized Haru as being the member who caused Neirah to throw a fuss, to which Rikio and Yō had to retrieve her from downtown. He remembered it explicitly because Saburōta was the one who wanted to chase her. This time, he would do that whether she wanted him to or not.

Saburōta whirled to face his fellow clansmen as he passed. "What are you talking about?! It's insulting!"

"Never seen you complain," Haru drawled wryly in response. He snorted shortly after cracking a steel pipe across his next victim's torso. "Well, not without turnin' redder than my hair right now."

"Yeah, we get it. You changed your hair!" Saburōta's irrational raging wasn't helping him to justify his denial, especially when he did so with a flushed expression matching Haru's accusation. "I'm a grown man, not a damn kid!" And someday he promised she'd change her tune, silently hoping that day was nigh. This time, he would protect her, not the other way around. "Just you wait! She's gonna find that out the hard way when I'm the first one there!"

By his side, Rikio's unenthusiastic expression hadn't shifted. "What exactly happened in that tent, anyways?"

Saburōta jerked his pale hood over the brim of his dark cap with a bitter growl before springing into action to escape scrutiny. "Fine! I'll take the top!"

Haru chuckled derisively. "You're such a dweeb."

Rikio's low growl filled with warning as he cut his narrowed gaze toward the man taunting their newest addition. "Cut it out, Tanaka," he ordered sternly. He tipped his concerned gaze up a level and watched the flustered Saburōta vanish down the tunnels connecting the factory facilities. "Not everyone gets fired up as easily as you do."

Saburōta's cheeks were still coloured with humiliation as he stormed the empty hallways between the buildings, and he hoped that if he ran fast enough, the crisp January air might relieve the heat. It seemed like a futile dream when he considered that fire had become apart of him that summer past. His fellow clansmen could say what they wanted, but he knew what he saw the day they met. Neirah was brave, but she liked to work alone, and that worried him. Maybe he was a little arrogant to consider it, but if he hadn't been there the night that she fought Eiko, she might not have survived. Even if it wasn't much, that momentary distraction that made his body ache for a week after bought enough time for Yō and Masaomi to make their move.

_What a joke! She might as well be alone, then!_ He could hear Yō's words repeating in his head as he stormed the quiet corridor to the sound of his teammates wreaking havoc down below. A part of him wondered, even if he was the first to make it to the end of the harbour, would there be anything he could do for his friends? He couldn't decide whether he was self-conscious or overconfident as he ran, and the indecision made his head spin. All Saburōta knew was that he had to keep moving forward with everything he had so that he could be of use to somebody when the time came. He wasn't a lone wolf anymore. This was his pack.

The enemy forces successfully scattered, thinning throughout the buildings while small clusters went after their leader. He wasn't going to prove anything sitting on the sidelines, and that frustration drove him to press forward. "Damn those guys," he growled. "I'll make them take me seriously."

The impact of the sight he blew by had almost compromised his balance entirely. He barely managed to stop himself from rolling across the floor as he pulled to a stop and looked out one of the dusty service windows to a terrifying sight. His gaze widened as he snapped his teeth together and bared his nervous hiss. "N-no way, it's him!"

Outside the building, casually crossing the shipyard was the monster of a Strain that attacked Yō and Neirah that summer. His balled fist rattled the ratty window frame as he slammed it against the wall furiously. "That bastard... Is he after Tsukiyo-san?"

The window burst into refractive shards and rained from the edge of the building as he put his foot through its centre. Moments later, he jumped through the mess and started across the building tops towards where he watched Eiko enter another structure like he hadn't a care in the world. His gaze narrowed, partially due to the dramatic adjustment his eyes had to accommodate when he left the warehouse, and his low snarl wrought with eager tension. "Over my dead body."

* * *

Fleeing hadn't been as easy as the man expected it to be in such a vast yard riddled with infrastructure. Everywhere his frightened expression darted, there was another blaze. Smoke was starting to blot out the sunlight, and sirens were beginning to sound in the distance. No matter which authorities arrived, they would spell disaster for the already shaken operation at hand. With alarm in his terrified jade eyes, he swivelled to face the harbour where he knew his escape awaited. All he had to do was make it to the predetermined mark.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you~"

The man shuddered in terror as he turned to face a friendly smile on the opposing side of him. If he hadn't recognized Tatara's kind expression, he might have mistaken the gentleman as being there to aid him. "Y-you! You're Totsuka Tatara!"

Tatara seemed delighted that his target was speaking to him, even if his tone was full of malice. "Oh, so you've heard of me," he sang spiritedly. An airy chuckle announced his unconfrontational intentions. "I never knew I was famous. That saves some time then. Trust me, running pretty much anywhere right now is a terrible idea. King seems to be pretty fired up." There was a slightly menacing flash of garnet in Tatara's gentle brown eyes as his brow furrowed over his smile, and his tone filled with sardonic caution. "That smoke is probably pretty toxic too, huh? There was a lot going on here that you didn't want anyone to know about."

The man thrust his arm out with a quivering demand. "S-stay away from me!"

"Wait, I just want to talk-" Tatara's breathing hitched as his prey tightened his hold on the briefcase before charging towards the waterfront like he thought he might make it to the other side of the flames. His zeal caused Tatara to sigh while he watched him throw open the door to the building in front of him and duck inside. "Okay, we'll do it your way then."

* * *

Maybe all that bravado faded a bit unreliably by the time Saburōta jumped onto the last building of his tour because when he reached the window that would lead him inside, he cracked it open cautiously, nearly choked by his thundering heartbeat. Behind him, Saburōta watched another building ignite, sending crimson flames into the sky to blot out the sight of his king's sword. Turning away from the unsettling view of his companions growing distant, he slipped through the window and dropped down onto the loft floor.

The building he entered hadn't housed an assembly line or storage containers. It was carpeted and looked to be office space that was relatively vacant save for the Strain he knew arrived. He straightened uneasily, listening for a moment to see if he could hear any movement. From what he remembered, Eiko hadn't exactly been known for his stealth. He'd listened to his destruction from a mile away the last time they met. But that day, the administration loft was relatively still.

He vigilantly made his way through the halls, careful to check the empty rooms before crossing in front of open doorways. Being separated from his allies meant that if someone found him out, he would have no one to rely on but himself, and that was a terrifying thing for a young clansman to consider. Then again, it made him reflect on his conversation with Neirah that summer on the beach and the memories caused him to still. She called him a lone wolf, and he supposed this was why. Saburōta knew he had friends, had reinforcements, but at that moment, he felt like he was the backup for HOMRA's hunter. He didn't have time to wait for someone else. He had to stop Eiko before he made a mess of things. Just once more, he had to try to do things on his own. He wanted to be of help to her. He knew he could.

_Wolf-kun_. That's what she called him that day, and that's what she continued to call him; when it wasn't _baby_. He supposed he didn't mind that as much, but he did find it a tad hypocritical. If Neirah was a lion, and HOMRA was her pride, it seemed odd for her to hunt alone. But they did it for the best of intentions, so he figured it would be okay just one last time. They could be strange together.

After checking a couple of the rooms, he'd begun to understand where he was. The places around him used to house the hostages kept on the premises before transportation, and that realization had his heart sinking until he caught the sound of voices nearby. He pressed himself tight to the wall, slowly peeking around the corner to where a handful of seemingly unarmed men spoke amongst themselves about the evacuation of the building. Unfortunately, he hadn't been close enough to get anything else out of the conversation.

He returned to his cover, his head and shoulders glued tightly to the wall behind him as he took a few deep breaths. _'I've got to stop Goya,' _he thought nervously. _'I can't let these guys get in my way. If I don't have time to wait for the others, I don't have time for these chumps either.'_ He filled himself with bitter feelings, protective feelings, and those feelings ignited. If he wanted to make it to the end of the harbour to be of help to their isolated comrades, he had to burn everything in his path. _'Come on, Bandō! You've got this.'_

"And the crew? If we don't get the merch en route soon, we'll-"

"Wait- Who the hell's that?!"

Before the man speaking could comprehend the intrusion, Saburōta's flaming fist was crashing into the side of his head and sending him barreling into the crowd. While he stood burning before them, he drew his dominant hand back in front of him and narrowed his sights on their threat as his victim threw his hand out to point at him accusingly.

"That's one of 'em now!"

"Sound the alarm!"

Saburōta dropped his centre of gravity before launching towards their charge, scattering them to either side of his pass so he could collide with the furthest target seeking to escape. He wrapped his palm around the man's nape, slamming his face down into the rug at their feet with all his weight. When the nervous prattling silenced beneath his brutality to the spill of blood staining the carpet, a devious smirk brightened his expression. "That doesn't sound like it jives with my plans," he purred mischievously. "Take a nap, why don't ya?"

When a second attacker made a move, Saburōta ducked and raised his knee into his assaulter's gut before backhanding his breathless body to the side. Two more approached, hoping to gain the upper hand in combat, but when a fiery kick impacted the first man's skull, the second lost heart in the fight. Just as he attempted to flee, Saburōta dropped to the floor and swept his feet out from under him. Once his opponent flattened against the flooring, he raised his foot and drove it down between the man's shoulders until he felt bones disjoint.

_This is nice_, or so he thought. There was a mischievous sparkle in ebony eyes as he listened to his mark whinge in agony, and just to make sure that his target didn't try anything funny, Saburōta ground his heel into the moaning mass. "Yeah. How d'you like that?" Filling with a vengeance, he lost track of who he was talking to as his smile broadened, and he ignited his offending foot. What he struck wasn't a stray Yakuza member, it was something more personal as phantoms twisted his comprehension. "Not so tough now, are ya, asshole?! Still think I'm too 'meek' to make it? Huh!? Come on, say it!"

Before he could revel in his satisfying triumph, Saburōta's PDA began to buzz in his jacket pocket to the jingle of assorted videogame noises. "What the-?" He withdrew the device curiously before noticing that the caller was one of his fellow clansmen. "Who the heck takes time in the middle of a war to call someone?!" He stifled his agitation and reigned in his violent instincts to answer the call. "Rrr, pipe down, would ya?" With a low growl, he stomped on the man writhing beneath his heel less personally before answering the call. "Bandō here."

"Idiot! Where the hell are you?!"

Saburōta jerked the phone away from his ear to keep from being deafened by the livid command sounding on the other side. "Chitose?" He sheepishly diverted his gaze down the hall. "What do you mean, _where am I_? Where are _you_? I found the place they were keepin' the girls, but there's no one here."

"Wait? Why are you looking for the girls? That was Totsuka's job!"

Saburōta turned away with a hangdog look on his face. "Well, it didn't start like that. But when Kamamoto and I switched places, I saw Goya cutting across the yard."

"Goya?! What the fuck is he doing out here!?"

From Yō's side, Saburōta could hear the muted addition of Masaomi's disapproval, wondering where the Strain got the balls to move on them even after Mikoto showed him mercy. "Shit, I knew Mikoto-san should've knocked him when he had the chance," Masaomi grumbled. "Guy's got balls. Does he need backup?"

Yō's voice returned on the line sounding clearly over Masaomi's muffled concern. "Send us your location. We're comin' to bail you out, newbie."

"What!? No way! I got this!"

"Piss off! That's not how Mikoto-san runs things around here!"

From over the line, Saburōta could hear Masaomi interjecting. "What's he tryin' to be the hero or somethin'?"

Saburōta was busy defending his cause to an enraged Yō and didn't happen to notice that he was no longer alone. He started to become overconfident, even animated in his flailing to deny the suggestion of his return, but when he heard the slow racking of a firearm down the hall, he silenced in an instant.

Yō paled to the sound of a gunshot cutting over the line, and the intermission he spent slack-jawed in denial caused Masaomi to panic. "What is it?" Masaomi pried. "Did he tell you where he's at?"

It took Yō a moment to pull himself together, but when he had, the PDA tight in his clammy grip suffered the brunt of his wrath. "Bandō! Bandō! Hey! Answer me!"

"What the hell just happened?" Izumo interrupted over the uproar. "Where is he?"

Yō was shaking his head nervously, his russet gaze wide and faltering with frustration. "H-he said he took off after Goya and ended up finding out where they were keeping the girls. Then I heard a shot, and the line went dead."

"No way!" Masaomi snapped in denial. "You don't think-?!"

"Don't be stupid," Izumo nearly growled. "If they shot him, he wouldn't have taken the time to disconnect the damn line."

"That idiot!" Yō cursed bitterly as he thoughtlessly slammed his phone onto the ground between them. "Does he want to end up dead?! What the _fuck_ is he thinking?!"

Masaomi snarled his rebuttal towards his furious companion. "You're one to talk. It looks like you two have the same complex."

"Get off my back!" Yō raged. "I'm serious right now!"

Rikio bowed his head, the guilt washing over him in steady waves. "I'm sorry, Kusanagi-san. This is all my fault," he mumbled bleakly. "I thought he was a little nervous, y' know? So, I said to 'im-"

"Don't worry about it. Everyone's got somethin' to prove," Izumo calmly theorized. He tipped his head back, craning it over his shoulder to face his king. "Should we go after him?"

Mikoto's light scoff was detached as he considered the unnerving situation at hand. "Sounds like Goya's out there with him, right?"

"Sure seemed like it to me."

A confident smirk crossed Mikoto's face in quiet consideration before he turned away from the situation. "Let him be, for now."

Yō seemed infuriated by the order they were given, immediately leaping to Saburōta's defence. "Wait?! We're just gonna leave him out there with that monster?" Yō immediately stiffened when Mikoto's absolute eyes locked with his, reassuring him through his stern command. The sight was humbling to the youthful clansmen and caused him to settle.

"That's what _our_ monster says." With a knowing beam, Izumo turned and started after their king. "So, I guess we're obligated to oblige 'im."

Their goal was close with two essential facilities remaining intact as resistance funnelled in, and that wasn't good enough. With that in mind, Mikoto silently assured himself that he would dish out punishment once they'd finished with the task at hand. By design, they had caused so much destruction in their wake that it wouldn't be easy for a kingless SCEPTRE4 to catch up with them. That considered, even he could see that the area was becoming dangerous for his men too. The war was drawing to a close, but they still hadn't made contact with their segregated forces. Their task had become less about decimation and more about recalling what was theirs.

_Hm?_ Izumo tilted his curiosity towards his mobile when it started to alert him to an incoming call. "Hold up," he muttered calmly. "It's Totsuka."

"Hah?! And Nē-chan?!" Yō cursed when Masaomi struck him furiously over the head. "The hell, Dewa?!"

"Not ten seconds ago, you were worried about Bandō getting shot and now this! Give it up already!"

"What?! I can't be worried about my pals?"

"She's out of your league!"

"Hey, dumbasses, can it," Izumo barked impatiently upon accepting the call. "Yo. Got good news for us, Totsuka? We could use it."

Tatara chuckled from where he stood next to his bound target and paced eagerly around the upper levels of the building opposing his companions. "Well, that depends on King's mood, I suppose."

Izumo checked his king's impatience in his peripherals before grinning and replying. "It's past lunchtime," he sassed. "We're about ready to pack it in."

Tatara took a seat on a railing nearby and overlooked the quiet factory below. "That sounds like him," he sang fondly. "Can you let everyone know we've located the hostages? They're in containers on the ship that just came into port this morning. The crew was waiting for their boss before disembarking, and it just so happens that he's a little tied up right now." With a playful chuckle, he turned to look out the window as flashing strobe beacons started to peek through the smoke and flame. "And not a moment too soon, I'd say. It looks like we've got company."

"So, the blues are here already, are they? That's good. Saves me the trouble of callin' 'em in to take care of the cleanup." Izumo tipped his gaze towards Yō and Masaomi, nodding his head in the direction of the harbour. "I'll send a couple of boys over there now to secure the ship. Be a damn shame if they got out from under us with all those innocents on board. Wouldn't want the cops to scare 'em off." He lowered his voice and turned from where the pair started jetting across the pavement to his unspoken command. "How's our little lion holdin' up?"

Tatara was helpless to stifle the uncertain hitch in his breath as he diverted his attention and tried not to let the suspicious silence condemn him. "I'm not too sure. We got separated when their boss bolted."

Mikoto slowly tipped his gaze over his shoulder to observe where Izumo was the one to let the silence drag between them.

"I see..." Izumo lowered his PDA and observed their location from an aerial depiction of their surroundings. "I'm sending out a recall point just on the other side of the harbour. It should keep us from bumpin' into the blues unnecessarily. I'm sure they could play this off as a freak accident in one of the old factories. Kids these days sure do like to play with fire."

Tatara chortled good-humouredly. "Right. I'll wrap things up here and meet you at the recall point as soon as I find-"

"Totsuka."

Tatara flinched timidly to the sound of order rumbling over the line as Mikoto's gruff tone replaced the smooth drawl of his second. "King, is that you? What's up?"

"Come back out the same way you went in," Mikoto rumbled evenly. "We're still cleaning up out here."

"But King, Nei-chan is-"

"She can take care of herself." Mikoto ignored the unease resonating from the silent line against his keen ear as he looked out over their devastation. "We'll meet you at the recall point."

Izumo snapped his arm out to catch the mobile that Mikoto tossed alongside his body before making his exit. After narrowing his gaze, the king's disgruntled second drawled his low observation. "You're putting an awful lot of faith in him."

Mikoto's gaze kindled as he glowered toward the building in front of him that was still standing. It grated on his last nerve. For what they did, and who they were, nobody taking part in anything happening around Minato harbour was worth leaving behind. "It's like you said, _everyone's got something to prove_." Mikoto started forward, his hunched shoulders bursting into flames as he departed. "Make sure everyone gets out. I'm gonna wrap things up here."

Izumo was left standing in the centre of the yard with his silent phone in his hands as he watched his king depart. Even if he didn't like watching him shoulder the burden on his own, as his clansman, he was obliged to obey. "Yeah… I got it."

Tatara groaned as his communications ended abruptly to the sound of Mikoto's impatience. "That was kind of rude. I wonder what happened." He flinched when he heard the loud clanging of steel doors, and from below, he caught the sight of enemy forces approaching in search of fortification.

"They've got us cut off!"

"There's gotta be another way out of here! Think, damn it!"

"The fuckers light themselves on fire! The hell do you want from me?!"

Suddenly, the once-quiet loft around Tatara burst into hysterics as his prisoner started to fuss. "Hey! Up here! Get me the hell out of here!"

"Boss?!"

Tatara flinched when the men whirled to face where the alarm raised, and he quickly reached down to grab hold of his mark's briefcase. "I should be going now," he chanted with an anxious salute. "Mind if I take this? Kusanagi-san's probably going to be interested in what's inside."

"Stop him, you morons! Don't let him get away!"

Tatara ducked beneath the sound of bullets ringing in the steel pipes around him, causing the lines to burst and hiss with the escape of volatile steam. He coughed once before raising his hand in front of his face to filter his inhalation. _'That's not good. If King comes after this building next, it could be really bad.'_ Tatara paused for a moment with his back pressed against the cover of a partition so he could notify his team to avoid the last building at all costs, and just as he sent it out, he was dodging gunshots a second time.

He ducked around the corner with his head low, careful not to get his arm caught on the equipment protruding around him as he locked his grip around the black case they seemed to be willing to risk everything to obtain. Unfortunately, they had come at him from one end of the building, meaning that escape meant that he had to make it to the other. Until flight was imminent, he had to hope that nothing sparked the ignition source pre-emptively, and that was an unsettling thought when he considered the abilities keeping most of his fellow clansmen alive. He took a deep breath and checked his mobile, making sure that his message successfully emitted from within the tin can disrupting cellular service. Confident that it had, he tucked it away and continued to flee. _'Okay, now to find Nei-chan.'_


	11. Kayo

**Kayo**

* * *

Neirah nervously whimpered as she withdrew her PDA from her pocket and observed the warnings that continued to pile in. They determined a rendezvous point, which was comforting, but shortly after she received it, Tatara was warning their team away from the final structure on their hit-list. She flipped over the side of the bridge she'd been using to cross over the assembly line below to dodge stray bullets. But before she could drop too low, she immediately gripped the ledge, and when her target grew near, she flipped herself back over the grate. Her flaming heels rocketed into the side of his face, successfully beating him off-balance and over the other side of the landing.

She steadied herself back on the path and continued to run from the other gang members closing in on her exhausted retreat. '_If Tatara is warning us away from this building, that must mean that he's somewhere in here too.' _Her frantic darting ground to a skidding halt when she met the sight of more men blocking the other end of the bridge and taking aim. Just as they'd fired their weapons, she tore her arms through the air and wrapped her steaming chain around a support beam nearby. Once it stuck, she leapt off the bridge, leaving their bullets to wound their fellow team members without her resistance there to stop them from straying. By the time she landed safely on another platform, the chain had boiled through the steel and allowed her to jerk it free. She griped with the exhaustion recalling it brought, leaving the boiling sparks to rain into the assembly line below.

Unfortunately, the platform she landed on was unstable, and when her weight dropped to its centre, it collapsed from underneath her. Her shrill cry was startled. Usually, she would have considered structural reliance before she trusted it, but she was growing desperate. A moment of panic caused her heart to ache, but before all of her life's regrets could blind her, she felt the reassuring pressure of two hands wrapped protectively around her forearm. She snapped her gaze from where it was watching the factory below stay distant and nearly cried her relief the moment her frantic gaze met Tatara's gentle smile.

"Tat-chan!"

"Fancy seeing you here." He chimed his delight upon heaving her up over the rocking edge of the bridge he'd been crossing. "You know, in the place I just told everyone to stay away from."

From their hands and knees, the pair winced on the steel grate as bullets started to pelt the walls and piping around them. Neirah growled as she reached down and snatched his hand, jerking him impatiently to his feet. "Now is _definitely_ not the time!" she commanded. She was moments from guiding them across the bridge and out of their enemy's firing range when she heard the sickening sound of steel moaning in preparation to give way.

Her laboured breathing broke with concern as she jerked her attention toward the severing support cables, steel strands fraying until she knew they were soon to fail. Their frantic scrambling would only hasten the destruction, and the ammunition continued to volley from the opposing side as more villains gathered. Her mind was barely holding her thoughts together as it was and, in her desperation, the anxiety began to wrack her tired body. All they could do was prepare for the fall and hope that nothing below them was lethal.

"Onē-san! Totsuka-san!"

Neirah's floating gaze washed in the direction of a reassuring voice and tears burned the backs of her eyes with relief. Every time she needed just one minute to catch her breath, he was there for her.

"Bandō! You're here too?" On the other hand, Tatara almost sounded disappointed. He was beginning to wonder if any of them took his warnings seriously.

In response, Saburōta nodded frantically, eager to help. "I got your message! I figured if you were telling us to stay away, that meant you were here all along, right?"

Despite her pride in the man for coming to the same conclusion as she had, Neirah was moments from telling them to cut the pleasantries when she watched the first cables sever, and she knew the remaining damage wouldn't contain both of their weights. As soon as Tatara made it to his feet, she turned and slammed into his back with everything she had left. "Bandō, help him!"

Tatara paid less attention to his impending decline and more to the sight of Neirah's disappearing shriek as the bridge gave out entirely beneath them. He narrowly managed to grab the edge of the upper level, and as ordered, Saburōta was by his side with his fists balled in the man's shirt to drag him to safety. But it didn't stop the struggling Tatara from reaching out to the woman as she disappeared into the smoky haze of their destructive wake. "Neirah!"

Saburōta fell onto his backside, panting with the effort of pulling Tatara to safety. He watched the doorway for a moment, trying desperately to catch his breath as Tatara leaned over the ledge to search the dust below. After a moment of quiet consideration, he forced his feet beneath him and slipped command into his hard tone. "Totsuka-san, come on! I know how we can help her!"

Tatara slowly turned towards the man from where he was trying desperately to make contact with their missing hunter. "Really? Are there stairs near-"

Saburōta's expression dimmed as he watched the already fair Tatara lose any trace of pigment in his complexation to the sight of the silhouette at his hazy back. "Totsuka-san? What is it?"

"Bandō-kun... who is that?"

* * *

She'd never sounded more feminine than she did when she struck the concrete on the ground floor of the factory, barely keeping her head from bouncing off the foundation. Her body trembled in shock as she slowly drew her unsteady arms up beneath her for support. Whining modestly, she pressed her fingers to her brow, realizing that at some point, she must have knocked her head because it was wet and sticky with blood. Her inner turmoil disturbed, but unlike her many other attacks, she was able to stifle its effect and remind herself that they had already won. Yō and Masaomi were evacuating the hostages as she panted her laboured breaths, and the thought filled her with respite. She had accomplished what she had set out to do, and not a moment too soon.

When she could raise her head, she did so to the sound of their enemies clamouring down the steel steps towards her. She immediately diverted her attention away from their angry tones, soon realizing why they persisted.

She forced her legs to unbind, wrapping both sets of fingers around the handle of the black leather briefcase Tatara apprehended from the head of their operation. Her brow knotted with rejection as she sprang forward with a determined war-cry and cut through the assembly line in hopes of reconnecting with her allies. She knew they wouldn't leave her behind, but she also knew that their situation was worsening by the second. At any moment, the gas seeping through the burst lines was going to ignite, and the entire building was going to go up into flames. That meant that if she ran into resistance, she couldn't fight back with her aura. She would have to face them as she was before, just an average frightened schoolgirl and that was if she didn't asphyxiate first.

Before she could grow too concerned with the unstable state of things, another gunshot ripped past her head and collided with a steel beam above. She didn't know what made her tilt her gaze, but it was at that moment that she watched the spraying gas lines combust. Moments later, it had become a battle of survival as the building started to collapse.

Her tan face paled when she made her way to the steps, realizing that they'd already crumbled beneath the flame. Her expression altered drastically the moment she narrowly dodged another bullet, and a menacing growl cut past her teeth. "Don't you people ever quit?!" she thundered passionately. "You've lost! Is whatever's in this briefcase really worth your lives?!"

She dropped the box by her side and took up her weapon, glowering at them from beneath her sopping bangs. Unlike them, she could take the heat, but the temperature wasn't going to be the issue if the building caved in and buried them alive. Additionally, she had her comrade's fates to worry about above all else. She didn't have time for their petty games.

As she was about to launch a counter to clear up their pressing interference, her heart stilled to a crimson set of wings fluttering delicately by her nose amongst the chaos. She watched it apprehensively for a moment, making sure that it was actually in front of her before clearing her blurred perspective of her enemies and hissing her impatience.

After it caught fire at her hip, her chain lashed out towards the rafters and sliced through the links above their head, releasing molten fragments onto their wailing party. Made soft by the intensifying heat, the gate gave way and collapsed onto their heads. After she had successfully interrupted their advance, she reached down and grabbed hold of the briefcase before chasing after the butterfly with all she had.

Noticing the unstable footing around her, she was careful to drop beneath a top-heavy piece of equipment that had broken free of its bindings. She threw the briefcase ahead of her and slid across the floor. When she caught up with it again, she patted out the flames threatening to damage the leather and carried on after the fluttering insect.

It looked so peaceful amidst the mayhem, and she couldn't help but smile with how appropriate it was. Tatara was her peace among the chaos, and if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have the strength to face an uncertain fate. It was his hand, his heart, that soothed her. She'd never had somebody she could rely on quite like that before, and even as her perspiring brow dampened the hair at her crown, she felt her face flush with fondness. "I'm glad it was you," she whispered proudly as the butterfly vanished.

"Onē-san! Up here! We found a way out!"

Neirah tore her gaze from the vanishing insect and looked up to where Saburōta was desperate to get her attention. As a result, her smile broadened. "Bandō, baby, am I glad to see you."

A perspiring Tatara closed his eyes over his sunny smile as he turned to face the stiff man next to him. "Did she just call you-"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Saburōta raged.

"Nei-chan, toss up your chain," Tatara instructed calmly. "We'll pull you up!"

"My, my, how the tables have turned, my prince," she teased spiritedly with feigned coyness. "How ever shall I repay you?"

Saburōta flinched with the undertones of their communications, and his cheeks flushed even though Tatara hadn't seemed affected in the slightest by her flirtatious manner.

"All in due time, fair valkyrie," Tatara teased. "Come on. Let's go home."

When Neirah tightened her grip on her chain in preparation, their fond reunion was rudely interrupted by another gunshot. Her lethal glower rotated to face the sight of Tatara's prisoner dragging his wounded leg towards her with both trembling hands wrapped around his Glock. His face was burnt, and blood seeped from his blisters, but he pressed towards her like an infected zombie. Additionally, despite all of his brutal injuries, Neirah could still recognize his face as the one who got away.

"I'm not letting... you take that... money."

Saburōta grasped the railing in front of him with both hands and barked his intolerant demand. He was beyond fired up and ready to call it a day. "What the hell are you going to do with money when you look like that?! Just give it up already!"

Tatara's once-gentle expression cracked with concern, and he raised his wild gaze towards the separating slabs of concrete above them as the rebar started to leak molten residue over the cracks. The unnerving sight resembled blood in the veins of the stone, and he knew what was coming before he ever heard the foundation separate. "Neirah! Look out!"

Instead of taking her situation into account, she raised her attention towards Tatara to connect their gazes. Before she could react to his terror, the boys' worrisome uproar was being blotted out by the sound of crumbling debris crashing to the basement floor around her. In the doorway, Saburōta slammed into Tatara, driving him out of harm's way as he reached for the woman that he'd been helpless to protect. The effort sent them skidding across the floor towards the exit, but as soon as Tatara recovered, he was lurching back towards the ledge and scouring the haze for hope.

Tatara's expression that used to be soft with affection had grown wild with worry while he scoured the dusty basement. During his scan, he pressed his forearm to his brow to defend against the mid-day sunlight streaming in blinding beams through the new holes in the ceiling. "Neirah! Neirah, please, answer me!"

Before Tatara could jump into the fray against Saburōta's worrisome suggestion, his heart palpitated to the vivid sight of crimson fighting the sun for brilliance in the lower levels of the factory. The pressure made him stagger back a step as the pillar of flame burst through the damaged beams to make sure that nothing else would pose a crushing hazard to their company. His appreciative murmur was filled with relief as it slipped past his dry lips. "Y-you're here."

Once the dust began to settle, the rattling of tiny rock particles scattering around her shivering body startled her because she'd been alive to notice their fretful scampering. She hadn't expected to be able to dodge her fate a second time, but as it turned out, another hand had flexed its influence. With a soft moan, she slowly tilted her throbbing head, and when she saw the sight of his dark shoes through the mist, she raised her gaze to the view of her king burning with a calm radiance by her side.

Tatara was moments from bursting into grateful tears as he lurched to the edge of the severed walkway with a delighted cheer. "King! You guys came!"

Mikoto slipped his sharp leer towards the pair impatiently, and before they could stammer out their defence, Izumo jerked them both towards the door by their collars. He ignored the guilt in Tatara's meek expression as he tossed them out of the building and onto the cold asphalt outside of the detonating inferno. "Big trouble," he droned impatiently.

"But Tsukiyo-san!" Saburōta barked his agony as Izumo struck him without restraint on the top of his head, and the pain intensified due to the bead on his baseball cap being between the man's fist and his skull.

"Big. trouble." Izumo reiterated coarsely.

Neirah's glowing gaze reflected the sunlight and flames as the roof opened up with the unobtrusive debris beginning to crumble from the remains all around them. The first collapse silenced the leader intent on stopping her and his stray gunfire, but nothing could silence the thundering of her adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat. Entranced, she watched her king bend over and pick up the briefcase that she had dropped, flopping his wrist over his shoulder to let the leather dangle from his fingertips.

Her words were soft among the blaze as she looked up at him with wonder in bright azure eyes. "You saved me... again," she choked.

Mikoto's expression remained unyielding as he leaned in and lit a new cigarette on the emissions of one of the combusting pipes by his side. After sucking the toxin to calm his nerves, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head. "Not me." Noticing her sudden bemusement, he tipped his gaze toward the concrete slab she narrowly managed to avoid. "He beat me to it."

Neirah's starry eyes widened in disbelief as she scampered away to the sight of a muscular blonde trapped beneath the weight of the debris. The man carried scars from before, but among the marks of the past, she could see fresh blood seeping from new wounds, one of which was a bullet to his collar that he took to save another of her fellow clansmen. "G-Goya...?"

Eiko's wheezing breaths were forced from within bleeding lungs as he endured the pain of a crushing weight popping his bones underneath. But despite the apparent suffering of his flesh, the man choked out a careless snigger and smiled. "Been a while… Little Red."

When Eiko started to choke out his last breaths, Neirah desperately looked at Mikoto for answers, bewildered that their enemy saved her. Even more unsettling was the fact that Eiko hadn't incinerated the slab with the same incredibly destructive powers he'd exhibited when they first met. "I-I... don't understand..."

She turned to face the sound of gentle pattering when Izumo leapt down into the basement level of the building, his leashed flames cremating debris that continued to rain on their party as he approached. "I think they call this regret," he murmured casually. "Betrayal must not've sat well with you, eh... Goya-san?"

Mikoto sighed calmly and reached down with his free hand to grip the boiling concrete, strenuously flipping it off the man's broken figure. Neirah wished he hadn't. It was the most horrific sight she'd ever seen. But when he had, her gaze lingered on something she would never forget, something on the back of the man who never showed it to anyone. On the nape of his neck, just beneath his hairline was the dark emblem of a certain Red King.

"How old were you during the Kagutsu Crater Incident?" Izumo pried softly. "Seventeen? Eighteen?"

Goya laughed a haggard choir as he lingered unmoving on the ground at their feet. "Sixteen," he nearly whispered. "And all the piss n' vinegar you goons ever were."

Even as Eiko caused more haggard coughs to muffle his words, Izumo smiled as he gently helped Neirah climb to her feet and dust herself off. Once he had secured her safety, he directed his solemn hazel gaze towards their unexpected ally. "Any regrets?"

The Strain groaned softly as his vision began to darken. "I was wrong about you, Suoh," he admitted gruffly. "There. I said it."

As the two men spoke outside of her comprehension, Neriah felt the pressure of Izumo at her back. Izumo's hands rested on her shoulders as she watched Mikoto crouch next to the Strain, offering him his burning hand. The invitation baffled her. The man lying there was close to death, and the only miracle about the moment was that he wasn't screaming in agony from the injuries he suffered. For some reason, though, her heart hurt as she watched Eiko's broken fingers raise weakly, desperate to reach the invitation before his time ran out. His lifeless limb dropped before he ever touched the Red King's fingertips, and something about that seemed tragic to her.

"Goya's abilities as a Strain made him numb to pain," Izumo quietly explained. "So, don't worry. He didn't suffer too much."

Neirah turned to face him with a look of confusion on her face, but she didn't pry any further. She just surrendered that there were some things that her superiors would keep from their clansmen sometimes, and she was okay with that. She returned her gaze to the sight of Mikoto slowly raising, and if she wasn't mistaken, there seemed to be traces of disappointment on the lines of his face.

She calmly observed her king as he approached with the briefcase still slung over his shoulder, and when his hot palm dropped to the top of her head, she peeked at him with her one exposed eye.

"Feel better, kid?"

Neriah's expression softened with the fond sentiment as she heaved an exhausted sigh and bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

_Hm._ Mikoto smiled at the girl tenderly and let his hand lazily slip free before passing, leaving her pressed against Izumo for comfort. "Me too."

Neirah turned to face Eiko's lifeless mass once more before departing, her confused heartstrings still tangled over the experience. Yet, with Izumo's kind encouragement, she began to move her heavy feet beneath her. Just before Izumo was about to help her up the side of the wall so that she could meet Rikio's reach, she stole one last glimpse of the man lying in ruin on her behalf. A sad part of her considered that maybe supernatural beings weren't all immune to her curse, and the thought made her uneasy. Where was the line between fate and coincidence?

She dropped her gaze to the floor momentarily before banishing it entirely with a dull whisper of surrender. "Thank you, Goya Eiko..."

* * *

The sirens in his ears were piercing as they wailed the announcement that the authorities were on the case. It was a disaster, and far from natural. The abandoned boatyard was in flames as the fuel tanks scattered between the buildings began to ignite, making it impossible for rescue crews to interfere, and that included SCEPTRE4.

Flames danced before him, but they didn't reflect in his dull brown glower as he watched the pandemonium unfold. Regardless of what the authorities would make of the situation, he knew what he saw lingering in the bright January sky that day through smoke black as night. The Red King was stretching his legs and asserting his dominance over his territory, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake. It wasn't entirely unlike his predecessor.

"Shiotsu-san!"

The weathered Gen tipped his gaze over his shoulder to face the youthful expressions of his youngest clansmen, eager to take his side in pursuit of their targets. "Akito, Hayato, stand down."

The twin boys startled to the sound of his easy command, even their expressions matching as they observed him from either side. "Shiotsu-san?" Akito murmured hesitantly.

"We're not going after them?" Hayato finished.

"But you saw it, right?"

"You saw the Red King's Sword of Damocles."

Gen heaved a weary sigh as the pair spoke in unison, their thoughts synchronized and completing each other's sentences like they shared one mind. _'Youngblood,'_ he thought despondently_. 'Always looking to make a mark.'_ He raised his gaze thoughtfully towards the mayhem and considered the careful planning that went into staging the scene on their hands. They were a somewhat savage creed, but they weren't unintelligent. That thought filled him with an air of caution and respect simultaneously.

He turned his head with a curious hum to the sight of an officer approaching his sergeant with an urgent clamour. He overheard the message, the crease in his brow relaxing momentarily to the sound of them announcing that they had found a gathering of young women just off the other side of the harbour. It seemed like there had been something shady happening in the boatyard after all, and that hadn't sat well with the Red King. Vigilante justice was a dangerous path to tread in their fragile world, and although Gen hadn't advanced, he wouldn't retreat either. He would keep a close eye on their actions, just in case they were to confront each other shortly.

"Well played," he muttered callously. "Red King."

* * *

Neirah hadn't meant to impose a blush in the face of the man carrying her, but when she moaned her fatigue, Rikio couldn't help but turn his ear away from the sensation. Her chin was against her arm as she draped them over his shoulders, her aching thighs secured by his strong arms. "I'm sorry." She murmured meekly in defeat from where she was slumped over his back and seeing stars. "I promise I don't mean to be so pathetic right now. How embarrassing..."

"I-it's no problem," Rikio swiftly assured her. "I'm sorry we couldn't make it to you faster. We probably could have kept at least some of this from happening." He continued walking, but he grew tense as the delusional brunette snuggled into his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Kamamoto-kun, you're so warm."

Rikio whirled quickly to face Saburōta, who was walking by his side, although a little indirectly. "Ah, Bandō, you take her for a bit, would ya?"

"M-me?! I can barely walk on my own!"

"Oh, come on, she's not that heavy!"

"Well, she _is_. But heavy or not, I'll take her off your hands." Yō yelped in agony as an unsympathetic Masaomi struck his already aching head. "You know, one of these days, I'm gonna hit you back!"

"Knock it off." Izumo raised his voice just enough to see his boys comply before lowering it courteously once more. "Those fumes back there probably made the poor thing dizzy. Just let her rest, for now."

"Are you talking about Nē-chan or Bandō?" Masaomi pried.

"I'm not carrying Bandō," Yō proclaimed resolutely.

Saburōta just dropped his head in defeat, surrendering that, as one of their newest members, it was probably some initiation that had him taking the brunt of their teasing. "I don't have any fight left," he admitted despairingly. Catching his breath, he turned over his shoulder next to Rikio when he felt the reassuring presence of Neirah's hand on the top of his head, her lean fingers fisting in his hood.

"Wolf-kun…" she whispered.

When their gazes met, Neirah had a sleepy smile on her face and a slight blush in her cheeks just beneath the ink framing her eyes. Lazy fingers clawed at his hood, tugging on it repeatedly, and for what purpose, he wasn't entirely sure. She was too tired to speak, but as Saburōta looked at her beneath the brim of his hat, he could see the gratitude in her soft smile. The sight filled him with the hope that maybe one day, he could prove himself to her and be the kind of assistance to keep her safe. That fantasy made his once irritable expression soften fondly.

In the end, if he hadn't shown up with Eiko in tow, Neirah may not have survived that night. He supposed a part of that made him feel like he had managed to return her kindness after all, at least, in part. The night she defended him against the same Strain, he felt helpless. But the day he managed to be there for her in her time of need helped to fill him with the confidence he was sorely lacking.

After a quiet moment, he pulled the hat from his head, causing his hood to fall around his shoulders as he reached to adorn her with the accessory. She seemed startled at first, raising her curious gaze to the sight of the beak on her brow before she quietly closed her eyes and snuggled back into Rikio's shoulder to conceal her fond beam. "So warm..."

* * *

July 18th, 2008 6:04 pm

"W-wait! Why there!? Can't we talk about this out heeere!" Saburōta grunted with the impact of falling onto a bench inside the changing tent Neirah dragged him into by his shirt hood. When he straightened, he shied away nervously from the sight of the woman's intense demeanour ruffling the flaps closed behind them, but not after throwing her tentmate a furious scowl. When she turned her stern gaze on him, he shrunk away uncertainly, resting his hands against the bench along his sides as he contemplated fleeing entirely. "You know, if this is about earlier-"

"It is." Her icy retort caused him to shiver as she stood in front of him with her arms folded over her chest, her hip cocked to one side with her confident attitude. "Tatara said you felt like you upset me."

Saburōta nervously tripped over his words under the pressure of her interrogation. "Y-you're a pretty intense kinda woman, aren't you?"

"Well, do you?"

"D-do I what?" Maybe it was what he wanted to see, but he could have sworn her expression had softened moderately.

"Do you feel like you upset me?"

He diverted his gaze beneath her pressure. "W-well, I... You just seemed to run off for no reason after what I said so-"

"Don't."

He blinked back at her hesitantly. "... don't what?"

"Don't worry about what I think," she continued quietly. "Take that as a friendly word of advice or a warning. You could even choose to ignore it altogether if you wanted." Finally, her expression genuinely softened as she approached, and her relaxing stare begged his permission to take a seat next to him. He clumsily responded by shuffling out of her way to make room on the narrow slab.

She obliged the invitation and seated herself next to him, her intimidation keeping him silent as she spoke. "But from one lone wolf to another, you'll never be satisfied if you're living to make everyone else happy." She turned to face his bashful astonishment with a small and reassuring smile on her face. "I'm close, aren't I?"

"I uh..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I get the feeling that it might have something to do with why you were at the harbour that night we had it out with Goya."

"The Strain guy?"

Neirah nodded delicately. "So long as you're a member of HOMRA, you're never really alone. I guess we all kind of learn that the hard way, some time or another." She ignored his apprehensive flinch when she finally laughed despite herself. "We don't all have Tatara's ability to express our emotions properly, so we blunder around aimlessly sometimes, but we're not hard to impress. I'm sorry I made you feel like this. I guess this is why Tat-chan usually manages the induction of new members."

The tension finally seemed to leave his body alongside her as he leaned forward and removed his hands from the bench like he'd surrendered the need to bolt. "You and him are pretty close, huh?"

Neirah turned her relaxed smile to face him, startling him with how gentle the beauty could be when she put her claws away. "He's my best friend," she nearly whispered. "Don't you have someone like that in your life too?"

He seemed to recoil and fret over his response like he was going to be judged harshly for every word he let slide. "I mean, I guess maybe..."

She raised with a gentle giggle, clapping her palm on his knee to support her rise. "That's okay. I don't need all the details right now." She turned over her shoulder and looked back at him fondly. "I just wanted you to know that there was someone here to listen if you needed to talk. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Saburōta stared at her for a long moment before a meek smile curled his lips, and he tossed his hand behind his head to sheepishly ruffle his near-black roots at his nape beneath his cap. "Man, now I'm the one who feels bad," he murmured awkwardly. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Her kind reassurance came with a gentle blush as she flipped open the tent in preparation to rejoin their clanmates on the golden beach. "Like I said, this is from one lone wolf to another. In this pack, someone will always have your back. I just wanted you to know that I have yours."

Just as he climbed to his feet and prepared to join her, he was stilling beneath the weight of her shifting demeanour only once more.

"And Bandō, baby? Take this with a grain of salt too, but the ladies like a man with some confidence, so think about that next time one drags you off into a secluded place somewhere, 'kay?"

Madly blushing, Saburōta's jaw dropped as he watched the woman weave between the flaps of the fabric, her curvaceous backside exaggerating its sway as she started to jog back towards her roommate. For a moment, he just stood there, his face growing hotter the more he considered her words. "D-did... Did she just call me-?"

"Bandō! Are you still alive in there or what?!" Masaomi called out partially earnest next to his jealous friend. "We're goin' in the water, you coming?"

Saburōta flinched out of his thoughts and dashed from the tent, trying desperately to shake off the flustering experience. "Y-yeah! Coming!"

* * *

January 3rd, 2009 9:35 pm

A sudden yelp of pain caused the room to jump as Tatara retracted the hand his roommate attacked. He rubbed the back of his knuckles uneasily as she glared daggers at him. "Owe, Nei-chan, that hurt."

"So did you pulling my hair," she quipped impatiently. "If you're going to force me to wear these ridiculous things, at least pay attention to where you're putting them."

Tatara sighed in defeat and picked up the roll of gauze he'd been binding around her cracked skull. The bleeding finally stopped, and luckily, her injuries weren't severe enough to need stitches, but the dirty bandage had crusted from earlier that day, and he knew if he didn't fix it, she would probably complain about that too. "Yes, ma'am."

"Whoa, so you're tellin' me that Goya actually saved you from a bullet?" Rikio threw his arms out in front of him and shook his head in disbelief. "Like, the same guy who tried to kill you and Nē-chan last summer?"

Saburōta dropped his head solemnly, watching his fingers twiddle as he considered the unlikelihood of his salvation. "Yeah, that's the one. I thought I was a goner when that guy pulled the trigger, but the next thing I knew, Goya was taking the hit for me. Dude didn't even flinch. It was pretty hardcore."

"Kusanagi-san says he didn't feel pain," Masaomi noted carefully. "That's a pretty scary ability to have. I mean, that's how you learn, right? If you touch something too hot and it burns, you learn not to touch it again."

"Really?" Yō chastised evenly. "You couldn't've come up with anything better than that?"

Masaomi dropped his head in defeat. "Let's put it this way. A guy who's not an idiot would learn the first time a girl kicks him in the balls for cheating on her with her best friend not to do it again."

Yō seemed to leap on the defensive with his companion's rebuttal. "Not unless that guy was never in a relationship with the girl who kicked him in the first place!"

"So, I'm confused," Rikio muttered. "Was Chitose a Strain before HOMRA?"

"No, he was an idiot," Masaomi groaned. "And some things never change."

Neirah's expression was downtrodden as she watched customers of the local Shizume bar turn away disappointedly to the sight of a closed sign on the front door that Saturday night. The pressure in her temples still filled her with fatigue, but she was starting to slip back into reality. Surprisingly, when she had, she felt peaceful. Those feelings caused her mind to wander, and her vertigo damaged her ability to keep her thoughts to herself. "Tat-chan?" Her voice was low and gentle as she tightened her grip on the sides of Rikio's coat, drawing it closer to her body for comfort.

Turning his attention from where he was returning his unused medical supplies to the first aid kit nearby, he responded to her in like. "What is it? Are you still feeling nauseous?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."

Tatara watched her quietly before settling on the couch next to her with his delicate features sporting his concern. "What is it then?"

She continued to speak softly in an attempt to conceal her philosophy from their rowdy friends nearby. "Do you think... there is a way to die peacefully?" Despite her hushed tone, the banter ceased unexpectedly in the bar to the sound of her gentle query.

Her quiet question attracted a lot of attention, but Tatara wasn't quite sure what sort of answer she hoped he had up his sleeve. "What makes you ask something like that?"

The nervous woman lowered her head, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Smoke inhalation, probably."

Tatara smiled in his understanding way and let her lean into his side for support. "Is it because of Goya?"

In her peripherals, Neirah could see the half-lidded golden gaze of her king watching her intently, and the pressure made her feel the slightest bit intimidated like she was commanded to sate his curiosity. "Kusanagi-san said he didn't suffer, but the look on his face was... something tragic." She paused thoughtfully. "Did he not have any friends? Any happy memories in life? If he wasn't suffering, why couldn't he think about the good times instead?" Her face filled with sorrow as her weighted attention skirted the floor around the room. "I wonder... would the good times be enough to make a person smile at the end?"

"That depends." Tatara hadn't let the silence pass for very long before he raised his hand and gently brushed her soft bangs out of her face. When she turned to peek at him, he tipped his sunny smile her way. "On whether or not that person lived with a smile in their heart."

Neirah's inquisitive gaze didn't seem to alter with any further enlightenment to consider his sentiment. "A smile... in their heart..."

"That's right." His vacant attention shifted blankly forward. He could feel the pressure of the room lingering, listening to what he was about to say, but he didn't feel intimidated by it in the slightest. "Sometimes people just don't smile, but that doesn't mean they're not at peace. And vice-versa, some people smile even when they're in pain, so whether or not they die peacefully can't really be seen from the outside."

Neirah turned her doubtful pout away from him and sighed, unsatisfied with his ambiguous statement. Pity for their lost comrade continued to weigh regretfully in her heart, blotting out the smile Tatara spoke of despite the day's undeniable success.

Nearby, Izumo shifted, his melancholy expression rising to meet hers with a faint smile. "Goya always wanted to be a member of the Red Clan." His sure announcement caused the entire bar to buzz with curiosity. "Not Mikoto's, but Kagutsu Genji's- the previous Red King." He met Neirah's curious sapphire gaze head-on while he justified Tatara's tender claim. "For whatever reason, I guess that never happened for him. Seems like there wasn't much in ol' Goya's life to smile about up until now."

The enlightenment finally came as she recalled the way he'd spoken to her, the tattoo on his neck.

"But today, he fought alongside us like he always wanted to and earned the respect of our king," he continued. "If that didn't put a smile in his heart, then I don't know what would."

Neirah felt the familiar sting of tears in the back of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. What she saw as tragic, may have been beautiful instead. If that was true, how skewed had her perspective become? Had she always been so cynical? From where she lingered with her gaze on Mikoto's quiet understanding, she turned to face Tatara's reassurance with a soft, settling sigh. "A smile in my heart." And his smile didn't fade. It was always there to let her know that she would be okay, and everything would work out, somehow.

_I should have told you back then that it was you. You were the smile in my heart that I knew I would see when my world was crashing down. That bright, optimistic warmth that shed light on my shadow, crimson wings that carried my dreams into the night sky, it was always you. If everything I touched fell to misfortune, everything you touched was blessed. You were the cure to my poison, the white to my black, the warmth to my cold. _

_You kept the hope in our eyes, the smile in our hearts._

_And I wish we had told you that... back then._

_It makes me wonder, would that memory have been enough?_

_To make you smile, in the end_

_…?_


	12. Break Special - Kinetic

**~Break Special~**

**Kinetic**

* * *

**_January 25th, 2009 11:49 pm_**

A crisp winter breeze carried her free locks around her face from the steep elevation where she lingered above the city lights. Her arms stretched to either side, and her head tipped back as she deeply inhaled the sharp nip in the air, allowing the cold world around her to send shivers down her spine. She cleared her mind of the commotion below, the way people carried on with their daily lives. _How mundane_, she thought. They scampered around like ants in a farm, too closed-minded to realize that the world around them was vast and ever-changing. Maybe she was unfair with her judgment. Not everyone could find freedom like she had. Not everyone could escape the cage.

_Not everyone can burn._

Without a crease in her brow above her smile, she fell forwards, toes slipping from the edge of the high-rise. She let the rush of fresh air fill her for the time it took her to inhale enough to feed her adrenaline-charged lungs, and once her body warmed it, she came to life. With an acrobatic aerial somersault, she rolled in the air and landed crouched on the rooftop below with a satisfying clap like thunder. From there, her boots whispered across the platform and powered her forward in a determined sprint. Faster, harder, her thighs burned with kinetic energy as her smile broadened, and she reached out to dust her finger on the building's central air unit while vaulting over its intrusion.

Grinding into a right-angled dart, she threw her legs over her head in a mid-air cartwheel so that she could land squarely on the next level. Carrying her momentum, she grasped the thick pole mounted in the shed's centre, throwing her weight around it until she could release herself towards the next ledge.

One, two more buildings passed beneath the steady patter of her feet, the even thundering of her heart. The street lights below were bright and colourful as they ignited beneath her, and they illuminated that wide-open space she reigned upon high. The chain at her hips orchestrated her approach, reflecting the incandescent glow of her trail. Beneath, the ants marched to the signal of traffic lights and pedestrian crossings, but she walked a different path. The route she chose was vast and winding as her never-ending advance challenged its promise to have no finish.

It was freedom, freedom to be who she wanted to be. It was freedom to stay, freedom to soar, and freedom to serve. Her service to her king had no chains and required no promises. Together with her hand in his, they challenged the culmination of the track before them. It wasn't what she expected it to be, but everything she hoped it would be. It was the fate she'd made her own.

When the edge of the third building approached, she leapt into the air meters away from the drop. Her momentum carried her high, and as she came down just past the boundary of the structure, a wicked smile was curling her lips beneath her burning azure gaze.

She dragged her hand behind her against the side of the building to slow her momentum and soon, she kicked off the wall of the structure. Ricocheting off of the partition opposing her descent a couple of times, she rotated mid-air and concluded her journey with her boots striking the asphalt of the quiet street between the complexes. Her soft but heavy breaths formed humid clouds in front of her face as she seethed her eagerness, and red fingernails decorated the lean digits spread out against the street to steady her.

A tone filled with alarm cut the night as an unsteady man laid eyes on the woman crouched before him and ready to release the energy in coiled thighs like a lion waiting to pounce. "Y-you're-!"

She tipped her chin forward, displaying her crooked smirk as her exposed bust confirmed the man's suspicion with the wobbling flash of HOMRA's badge on her right, heaving breast. Closing her fingers against the ground, she let her nails score the rough slab with a grating drag while her body ignited. Finally, the tension released while she straightened between Tatara and Rikio, glaring down her nose at the target before her.

"Late," Izumo growled. His casual interruption kept the scrambled man from completing his sentiment as he finished it for them. "Got anything to say for yourself?"

Dark lashes framed her seductive leer as it cut towards the man she had affectionately grown to refer to as _Onii-san_. "HOMRA's lioness hunts when she's hungry. She doesn't run on a schedule."

Defeated, Izumo tipped his head back slightly with a sardonic grin. "That's our hunter," he purred. "A pretty little pain in my ass." Adjusting violet shades over his eyes from the bridge of his nose, he turned entirely to the sound of Mikoto's fond snigger and made his suggestion for action. "Well, Mikoto? Now that we're all here, what do you say we get started?"

With a hot and calculating glower, Mikoto locked his lethargic gaze on the man at their feet. "Who do you work for?" The question was simple and uttered quietly beneath his breath, but the atmosphere around them began to shift until even a mortal could comprehend it.

"I-I already told you, I don't have any idea what you're talking about!"

Before the man could blink, Neirah darted forward, fisting her hand in his dark hair as she dragged him to a manageable level. Once he was on his knees, she laid her seductive whisper against his ear and the throwing dart at her tailbone against his throat. "Don't you know you're supposed to kneel before a king?" She licked her lips and made a low growling sound like a cat might make if someone tried to take its fish while it was still eating. "How rude."

Mikoto took a step forward, releasing the pressure building inside him with his impatience in a controlled display of power. Flames started to darken the lines on his face as his brow knotted with malice. "Who do you work for?" he repeated.

The man's fleeting gaze scoured the area, desperate for any form of aid, but none came. Not all clans worked like HOMRA. The family standing before him was a breed above, and the entirety of Shizume City was learning that by force. Realizing this, the runner choking against the blade their resident hunter pinched to his pulse spilt all the information he had on the whereabouts of the dealer he was working for in due haste.

"M-my pocket!" he shouted tearfully. "My phone is in my pocket! All the information is in there!" He squealed as the pressure of Neirah's doubting blade increased, his fidgeting drawing blood to the surface of his skin in a lean, beading trail. "I-I'm serious! I have a real bad memory, so I put all the information in my PDA!"

Izumo cocked a brow skeptically as he strode towards the man with casual posture. He braced one arm against the brick of the building next to the man's head, lowering his face close enough to their target's gasping breaths that the embers of his cigarette nearly singed his victim's nose. "You know, our little lion's a rather sadistic beauty." He dug through the man's jacket pocket and retrieved the item rumoured to contain all the information they required. "She might just kill you for the hell of it."

Izumo said the words, but he knew he held the reins of their fiery little assassin. Leaving the frightened man to sweat out his warning, he flipped through the phone in search of incriminating data. Sure enough, the apparent contact information was unencrypted and left in the open for him to absorb. The small-time operation smuggling drugs through their streets hadn't been nearly as crafty as the Yakuza, which was why they'd caught on to their disturbance so swiftly. The simplicity made him laugh. "What do you know? He was actually telling the truth," he droned irreverently. "If I didn't believe you were really that stupid, I might have thought this was all a setup."

To the hollow sound of Izumo snapping his fingers, Neirah released her prey and let him fall forward, clutching his throat. She cocked a brow playfully and let him hack for the airflow she'd restricted as she returned to her pride. "Too bad," she sang mischievously. "We were just getting to know each other." She rotated her dart between her fingers skillfully before thrusting it back into her denim waistline beneath a luscious curtain of auburn waves.

"Hate to break it to you, Kamamoto, but Neirah was right about that izakaya. It looks like you're going to have to find somewhere else to take your lunches," Izumo teased upon revealing the details to their party. "Turns out there's somethin' else goin' on in the back after all."

Masaomi snorted dryly. "Well, that'll teach you for questioning Nē-chan's instincts."

"Wha?! No way!" Rikio whined in dismay. "Awh, Mikoto-san, do we really gotta bust it all up?"

Tatara laughed despite the dramatic situation unfolding, brightening the mood like they hadn't just threatened someone's life to obtain the information they were seeking. "I'm sure we can leave the restaurant side standing, right King?"

Mikoto diverted his agitated expression with a bitter scoff as he began to walk away from the wheezing man on the ground.

"Tat-chan, have you ever heard the story about the bull and the china shop?" There was a delicate song in the young woman's voice as she joined her best friend's side, all malice draining from her pleasant demeanour as his contagious positivity washed over her. "I feel like it has a place in this conversation."

"Nē-chan's right," Yō theorized soundly. "You'll get over it, Kamamoto. There are tons of great izakaya in town." He was satisfied with the surprised gasp sounding from Neirah when he snuck up alongside her and dropped his arm around her shoulders. "Like that one I'm going to take Tsukiyo-san to when she finally decides to go out with me."

Masaomi growled impatiently to himself, his fist balling with his intolerance. "Idiot, don't call her _Nē-chan_ and then say you're going to take her out."

Saburōta frowned, his even glare concealed behind dark lenses despite the nighttime hour. "Is Chitose the only one who doesn't remember the Chitose Incident of '08?"

Before Izumo could get involved, Neirah sighed blissfully and reached out to hold Yō's hand in hers, their ebony bangles mingling as she considered the tension beginning to brew. "Bandō, baby, I appreciate your concern but-"

Neirah's grip on Yō's wrist suddenly tightened, and she heaved on his contact with all her might until he was flopping over her shoulder against his back on the pavement by her feet. He was having a difficult enough time catching his breath when she rested one dainty boot against his solar plexus and leaned over her bent knee. _Déjà vu_, she mused fondly. She had a flirtatious smirk on her lips as she smiled down at the embarrassed man trying to shove her foot away. "I think I can handle this one on my own."

"Lion-chan, be nice," Tatara laughed delightedly next to their new blood. "You're scaring Fujishima."

Neirah turned her pleasant smile towards the tall ginger standing next to Tatara, and her tone brightened with song. "Oh, I'm sorry. This must seem strange out of context."

Kōsuke eyed the woman calmly before glancing down to where Yō was perspiring nervously beneath her pressure. "Actually, I think I can pretty much infer from here."

Izumo had already turned, his vacant stare piercing their sniggering gathering for a moment in thought as he comprehended the bit of conversation to pique his interest most. He initially wound up ready to reprimand HOMRA's notorious playboy, but that was before something deeply concerning caught his attention instead. "Wait," he interrupted dimly. He waited for Masaomi to help Yō to his feet, making sure every one of them caught the lethal glint in his distorted gaze beneath his sunglasses. "Bandō, did she just call you-?"

"Y-you're… just going to let me go?"

From where he'd frozen in place, Saburōta slowly turned over his shoulder to face the man on the ground at their back, who was still clutching his neck. He slipped his attention back to Izumo, and then to the ruffian gasping for air. "Does this mean I'm off the hook…?" He flinched, jolting forward with a surprised yelp as Neirah leapt onto his back, trusting him to catch her legs around his hips and support her intrusion.

"Don't sound so relieved," she drawled sultrily towards their victim. "I'm sure we'll be in touch." She giggled almost harmlessly as she reached out and fixed the shades she had disturbed on Saburōta's face.

Mikoto finally stopped in his tracks and turned to face the thug with a pitiless expression on his face. The fear he saw in the man's eyes would be contagious among the lower-ranked nuisances in his territory. As such, he flexed his power and ignited the street on either side of the panicking figure. The gathering in front of him hadn't faltered as they stood casually among the flames with confident expressions.

"Tell your friends," Izumo hummed good-humouredly in a quiet tone. "If you've got any, that is." And just as he caught the sight of Saburōta sneaking by with Neirah draped over his back, he turned around and clobbered him.

Defensive instincts kicked in as Saburōta toppled, and he quickly regained his balance to protect them both from tumbling to the ground. "Come on! It's not like I asked her to call me that!"

Neirah's voice was soft and flirty against his neck as she pouted her interest. "Oh? Do you have something you'd prefer?"

"Neirah, stop instigating," Izumo commanded callously.

"Leave him alone, Onii-chan. I found him, so he's mine."

"Don't get cute with me."

"Okay, Kusanagi-san, Nei-chan, that's enough," Tatara mediated anxiously.

Saburōta's brow perspired with unease as he tried to force his smile to remain. "Today's the day I die, isn't it?"

"Don't worry, Bandō, baby. I'll protect you."

"Yeah, somehow not comforting..." But despite his palpable restlessness, something about the woman's weight against his shoulders had been just that.

As the group casually made their exit, the man at their back was left to count his blessings. He had survived a bleak encounter, but what vexed him was how a group so infamously destructive could be so naturally intimate. What he saw before him as the street resonated with fond teasing and laughter was a family with forged bonds of blood. No, maybe it was deeper than the blood they'd shed together. Even though he had narrowly survived the encounter, the sound instilled feelings of home and familiarity within him.

_This world is so cold._

_But our fire keeps me warm._


End file.
